Dark Legacy
by Djuva
Summary: With Yana Dar's death now official the Council has to move quickly to prevent a civil war on Byss and curb Naas Deron's excesses as he follows his call as Cor'dan.
1. The Princess

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Dark Legacy

Disclaimer: 

Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. 

The story idea and the original characters 

belong to the author.

****

"Entertain me."

She watched his reaction closely, the way he subtly shifted his weight as he turned to look at her. His eyes, the darkest hue of brown, almost black, were focused on her with a look of intent helpfulness. 

"What entertainment do you have in mind, Princess?" he asked, his tone incredibly amused. 

She gave a soft shrug, then turned around to lie on her back, one hand placed over her stomach. "I do not know," she replied flippantly. "Something, I guess."

"Something." He gave a low chuckle, and she imagined the way the skin around his eyes would crinkle when he smiled. She liked those crinkles. Just like the beard he now wore they gave him a dignified air, took some of the sharpness of his warrior's demeanor away and gave him a touch of the wisdom that was expected of the Cor'dan. Yet he had not always been a priest. "My princess, you will have to give me something more substantial than a mere 'something'," he continued. 

"The Nargana Dey Ritual. What about that one? You never told me about its origins."

Propping herself up on one elbow she gazed at him again, her pale blue eyes, almost grey, tracing the contours of his body, just visible underneath the long robe he wore. "How did it come to be?"

In an instant the intimate atmosphere had vanished, as he straightened to take up a lecturing posture, as master to apprentice. "The Nargana Dey Ritual, or Rite of Life, was first employed by Jamal Irduyn, almost ten thousand years ago."

"Jamal Irduyn," she interrupted him thoughtfully. "Proud Worker?"

He nodded. "Yes, very good. A fitting name, I believe. Now. A bloody war had decimated most of the male population of the Jen-People, and the remaining women formed a council to ask the Cor'dan for assistance. I suppose it was pure chance that the Cor'dan was male at that time. A female would have assigned one of the surviving men to perform the Rite, I suppose."

She smiled at his dry tone, but still listened closely. "So they chose the Cor'dan because they found he would serve their future children best, would ensure a strong lineage. Is that it?"

"Probably. Fact is, that from that day on the Jen-People had one tradition more. The motives for a man or woman to ask for the Nargana Dey Ritual to be performed are varied. Some see it as a special honor they believe will bring them closer to the gods, closer to the spirits, others may have more mundane goals they hope to achieve through it. For some it may also be a matter of pride. People such as yourself, Princess, for example."

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, furious, and the flat of her hand came down hard on the grey flagtiles they both rested on. 

Brows cocked meaningfully, he replied: "I do not remember you coming to ask me about the Rite's meaning before you demanded to be subjected to it. I knew what you wanted, my dear. Now you have it, and you are still bored?"

"Not bored. Just – restless."

He sighed. "Nevertheless, you have been a good student, as I knew you would be. Which was why I chose you at all."

"You mean you could have refused me?"

"Of course."

"But I am the Empress' daughter," she snapped, realizing the instant she uttered those words how foolish they were. She should know better by now.

"The Empress' law holds no power over the Cor'dan," he answered calmly. "Another reason why you wanted what you did back then."

It was infuriating how easily he could read her intentions, past, present and future. And it always astounded her that he accepted her using him like this. She knew no other man who would be so cold about what they shared, but then, wasn't she just as cold? She took whatever she desired from him, be it his teachings or his affections, and he never ever made demands of her other than to follow his lessons, secure in the knowledge that by retreating he could goad her his way just as easily. With a sudden chill she pondered for the hundredst time what _he_ stood to gain from their relationship. 

It had been two years ago, her eighteenth year, when she had approached him most humbly and asked to join him in the Nargana Dey Ritual. She still remembered the look in his eyes, which had been open, clear pools of darkness in the treacherous light of the candles that illuminated the Temple of Rebirth here on Byss. Back then she had speculated that he himself was new to his post, that he would not refuse her, having been initiated as Cor'dan only a year previous. And yet, she had underestimated him greatly, as she found herself doing repeatedly even now. Afterwards, the Rite completed, he had asked her to become his apprentice. 

That night had marked Luzaya Dan's greatest triumph so far. The first time she had managed to accomplish something of her own, to achieve a goal she had set for herself alone, without her parents guiding and overseeing her all the way. But she wanted more, much more. She wanted to get away from Byss and see something of the galaxy, she wanted to escape the stuffy chambers of the Citadel, the pompous rituals that surrounded the royal family every moment of their lives. She had found a means to escape that by sharing the Cor'dan's bed and his teachings, at least for a few hours each day, but she also knew that her apprenticeship also bound her to his side. Another sort of prison, then.

The soft sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention, and she hastily rose from the floor and dusted off her dress quickly. When she turned back to face her teacher he was already standing, the epitome of mysterious power he symbolized. 

"Cor'dan." The newcomer was a young Yuuzhan Vong female, old enough to have been taught her own language, before her people's conquest, but Luzaya could tell by her tone that she had adapted quickly to speaking Basic, the official language of the Empire, by the Empress' decree. The Yuuzhan Vong waited, head lowered demurely.

"What is it?" Naas Deron asked at last, his voice as cool as the nonexistent winters here on Byss. 

"The Empress requires your immediate presence, Cor'dan. Princess," she added, "you have been summoned also."

Luzaya threw her lover a questioning glance, but he seemed preoccupied with something. "Go ahead," he ordered her. "I will be with you presently."

Without another word he turned away to vanish in the back of the temple, where he had his own quarters, sparsely furnished and impersonal as they were. Luzaya huffed an angry breath, then stalked after the Yuuzhan Vong, through the intricate walkways that connected the temple with the Royal Promenade. The promenade – completed ten years ago – was like a maze, and it had quickly grown into the heart of Byss, weaving every major public place and building into its net. The people strolling the walkways stopped to bow toward the princess when they saw her, and she always greeted them courteously, the words leaving her mouth on automatic. But the closer they came toward the citadel, the less people there were, and when they reached the tall portal, always open, Luzaya gasped in shock to find the great double doors closed. So far that had not happened even once during Empress Yana Dar's reign. Twenty years. Twenty years of peace and dignity. Something terrible had to have happened. Luzaya hitched up the heavy skirts of her dress hurriedly and ran for the guards. 

"Open! Open up!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. 

Someone grabbed her arm and held her back when she tried to jerk free of the tight grasp. "Luzaya Dan!"

Looking up, she met Elu Cha's eyes. The High Priest of the Yun-Harla Sect seemed extraordinarily upset. "What happened?" the princess asked, her voice breaking. The Empire offered freedom of religion, allowing the different Yuuzhan Vong sects to survive, as long as they recognized the Empress as supreme ruler and the Cor'dan as ultimate voice of judgement. 

"Your father, Highness. You must come at once." He dragged her past the guards, who stared ahead, watching the promenade intently. The young Yuuzhan Vong female who had brought the princess, though, was barred from entering the citadel. 

Its gloomy hallways, the high walls cast in shadows, barely registered with her as the High Priest ushered her through, leading her toward her parents' private quarters that occupied most of the citadel's west wing. A hushed exchange between Elu Cha and Myryane Eastwinder, the majordomo, followed at the threshold, then Luzaya was handed over to the bulky human woman. 

"Oh, Princess," Myryane sighed, wringing her hands. "Where did you leave Master Deron?"

"He will be along shortly;" Luzaya found herself answering hoarsely. "Myryane, what is it with my father?"

"Poison, we believe," the majordomo whispered, her eyes widening as she looked around the shadows furtively. 

Luzaya grabbed the woman's right wrist hard. "Poison?" she hissed. "How can that be?"

"I do not know!" the unfortunate Myryane wailed. "Please, Highness, you hurt me!"

Taken aback, Luzaya let go. "Forgive me," she pleaded hastily, then turned away and sprinted toward her parents' bedroom, where she suspected she would find both her father and mother, leaving Myryane behind in the dark hallways. 

Bursting through the doorway, Luzaya took one glance at the somber assembly, then dropped to her knees at her mother's side, who sat rigidly in one of the high-backed chairs that had been placed along the viewport. Very quietly the princess sought the bed on which her father lay, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Three medics were bent over his pale form, and a 21-B droid stood by obediently, offering assistance. 

"Where is Naas Deron?"

Mother's voice was cold, devoid of emotion, but Luzaya thought she could still sense the fire simmering underneath that icy tone. Luzaya shyly glanced up at her mother, searching her hard expression for any clue as to what she was truly feeling. The Empress' face was still handsome, despite the lines age had put on her porcellaine complexion. Her mane of blonde curls had thinned a bit and was turning white more heavily now. Dressed in a black suit, she conveyed the very essence of power she had been at the beginning of her reign, and still was. But her blue eyes were fixed solely on her husband, and in that empty gaze Luzaya could read many things. 

"He will come," Luzaya answered at last. 

"Then he had better be here soon."

As if summoned by the Empress' threatening words, the Cor'dan strode into the silent chamber, dressed in his dark cloak of office, and he stopped short upon seeing the medics busy with the patient.

"Out," he said, his voice loud and clear. "All of you, out."

The medics left without another word, they all knew that disobeying the Cor'dan was punishable by death in the very worst case, and by the look in Yana Dar's eyes it was wiser not to dispute. The Cor'dan walked over to the bed, and, without turning to look at the two women left in the room, added: "You too, Your Majesty. Luzaya can stay, and learn."  


The princess held her breath, fearing one of her mother's infamous outbursts that only her family and closest friends were subjected to now and then. She could be fearsome, when she was furious, and then Luzaya could well imagine the stories the priests told about her were true. But to her greatest shock her mother rose from her seat and turned toward the door. She hesitated to leave, though.

"You will do everything in your power to save him," she declared, an order, really, but her tone and the expression on her face revealed the true nature of the plea. Naas Deron nodded mutely, and with a last, pained glance at her husband, Yana left the bedroom. 

Immediately Luzaya scooted over to join the Cor'dan's side. "What are you going to do?" she asked quietly, her gaze locked on her father's pale face. The scars he had received years ago stood out in a stark white against the palor of his skin, making Luzaya wince inwardly. "How are you planning to get rid of the poison?"

"First I have to determine whether it is a poison at all," Naas Deron replied coolly, and with a small ring unsheathed the slim-bladed dagger he used for so-called San-Rites, or blood rites. 

Luzaya flinched when the sharp edge of the blade was drawn along her father's neck, leaving a thin trail of blood. Her hands were cramped into fists tightly, but she did not dare to interfere, no matter how strong the desire to protect her father. On the contrary, she forced herself to lean closer, to see more clearly what Deron was doing. Without looking at her he lay his left palm against her forehead, while his right hand still held on to the dagger. By now Luzaya had grown used to this teaching method, that allowed a non-Force-sensitive apprentice like her to follow the actions of the Cor'dan. Not before her initiation as his successor would she experience the power he commanded. 

Through the contact, she could see with his eyes, feel with his senses, and it always was a strange experience, for Luzaya found it hard to concentrate despite the loud buzzing noise that seemed to fill her head every time they linked like this. She knew where that noise came from. It was the rushing of his blood, and her own. Concentrating on the task ahead, Luzaya let Deron guide her mind. He was gazing down at the wound he had opened, then carefully extended a probing tendril of gold toward the blood to examine its texture. There were no names to define the different blood components, just a feeling of right and wrong. There definitely was something wrong with Father's blood, Luzaya could tell. Nodding to himself, Deron reached over to draw a similar cut down the other side of the patient's neck, very carefully, as to not injure the jugular vein. 

Then he let go of Luzaya and pointed at the sheets covering her father up to his collar-bones. "Pick him up and place him on the carpet over there."

She obeyed without a word, not wasting even one thought for the likes of protocol. She may be a princess, but she was also apprenticed to the Cor'dan, and the latter came first, in her opinion. Luzaya was not frail, and her father, though taller than her, was of slim build, reasonably easy to handle even for her. Carefully she lifted him from the bed, feeling tears gather in her eyes as she remembered all the times she had been cradled in his arrms for comfort, how safe she had always felt in his embrace. But she braved those memories with some effort, and lay his body on the floor gently. For a moment his closed eyelids fluttered, and her heart leapt up higher, because she thought he might wake up. 

"Good." Naas Deron said as he knelt next to her, a bowl of tincture that he had prepared while she had seen to her own task held in both hands. "This is a mixture of Sheval leaves, Red Blossom essence and ground Black Root. Effects?"

"The patient will fall into an easier sleep," she answered promptly. "Mixed with the patient's blood it also forms a part of the Motha Dey Rite. Is that what you are going to try?"

"There is no try," he chided her with a smile. "Let him drink half, then stand back."

Luzaya did as she had been told, carefully holding the rim of the bowl to her father's lips, then tipping the bowl carefully to pour the liquid into his mouth. He swallowed slowly, and she smiled at that small success. Then, holding the bowl with the remaining precious liquid close, she rose again and handed it over to Naas Deron, who accepted it with a nod. He sat down on his haunches at the patient's head and used his dagger to scrape a few drops of blood off his skin and mix them into the tincture. Setting the bowl down next to him, he stood and walked around to kneel over Father's bare torso. With three quick slashes he cut the symbol of the Cor'dan into the skin covering the other's breastbone, two parallel lines connected with a horizontal one, the world of the spirits and the world of the dead, bridged by the Cor'dan. 

"Come here," Deron ordered, and Luzaya took her place next to him. Again he reached for her forehead, and this time she found herself submerged in a web of sorts, confusing her, but she found some solace in her lover's calm, that infected her too, with time. "Hand me that bowl."  


While she held it out to him he dipped his fingers into the liquid and began painting an intricate pattern around the sign he had made. Luzaya knew that these patterns where neither random nor prescribed by ritual. They rather followed the traces of wrong that permeated the patient's body, revealing the extent of the illness, in this case the extent to which the poison had spread. Luzaya felt her skin grow cold when Deron's fingers moved almost all over her father's body, which could mean only one thing, that the poison had spread all through his system. This looked very bad. Swallowing slowly, the princess tried to remain composed, but then she felt something that was like a reassuring pat on the shoulder and knew that her lover was trying to soothe her.

"Not all that bad," he murmured softly. "This only means he will take a long time to recover. Here," he said, then put his palm over the symbol. "Have a look." Luzaya gasped as she found herself inside her father's body, at a microscopic level that allowed her to see the tiniest detail of his molecular setup. "These organisms are the poison," Deron explained, pointing out a mass of round shapes that seemed to sport tiny barbs. 

"Bio-engineered?" Luzaya asked, remarkably calm once more. If that was true, then she already knew where to look for the perpetrators.

"I am not sure. They might be. But I cannot say where they come from."

She nodded solemnly. "Can you rid him of those?"

"It'll need a little time." He looked over at her, his brown eyes inquisitive. "Do you want to perform the ritual?"

She blushed violently. "But I am only an apprentice!"

"And he is your father. I understand."

Luzaya hesitated. "I – am not sure I want to take that responsibility," she confessed. "If he does not survive ... No. I cannot."

"As you wish," he replied with a shrug. Then, bending over Franzis Sarreti's sleeping form again, he started explaining. "The power of the Cor'dan relies on balance, Luzaya Dan. For me to heal your father that means I have to destroy the microorganisms that are the poison. I have to kill them to be on the safe side. This requires balance, a sacrifice on my part. And here the power the Cor'dan is given upon the initiation comes into play. If I did not have that shelter, that shield, I could not give what is required."

"And what exactly is that?" Luzaya asked hesitantly. 

Naas Deron quirked another smile at her. "All you need to know is that, when I am finished, you should leave me alone for a few hours."

It was six hours later that Luzaya staggered to her feet from her perch on the carpet to walk over to the door and summon her mother. Outside, in the hallway, Empress Yana Dar sat rigidly on a chair, and most likely she had sat there for most of the time of healing. Luzaya hung in the doorframe, feeling wrung out, though she had done little more than wait and assist in whatever small way she could, which hadn't been much. But worrying could be excrutiating too. When Yana became aware of her presence she leapt up and rushed over to join her daughter.

"So?" she pleaded, saphire blue eyes gleaming. "You have succeeded?"

Luzaya gave a weary nod. "Yes, we have succeeded. He is asleep now. They both are."

The sound that escaped from between her mother's lips was curious, half sigh, half delighted scream, as she pushed past to enter the royal bedroom. Luzaya nodded at the guards standing to attention in the corridor and withdrew into the room once more, closing the door behind her. Her father had been placed on the bed again, and she had tucked the cover right up under his chin so he wouldn't be cold. Naas Deron was seated cross-legged on the floor, his back propped up against the wall, but he was asleep too, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Traces of blood were still visible on his neck, and Luzaya knew that wounds covered the entire length of his body, an exact copy of the patterns he had painted on Father's skin earlier, at the beginning of the ritual. Now it was time for the Cor'dan to heal himself. 

Luzaya, weary herself, watched her mother cross the length of the chamber to take a seat on the edge of the bed. With delicate movements the Empress proceeded to caress her husband's face, muss his dark hair, and the princess' face echoed her mother's radiant smile easily as she continued gazing at her parents. Sinking into one of the chairs, Luzaya leaned back, content. Her father was safe for now. At once her thoughts were pushed in a certain direction, pondering the why and how of the assassination attempt. Whoever had planned this knew the proceedings of the Imperial Court well. Though Yana Dar was Empress, the ultimate power of the realm, it was her consort, Franzis Sarreti, who managed daily business, who was the heart of the government. 

So this plot had been aimed at paralysing the Empire itself, not at a coup of sorts. A coup would have targeted the Empress, who gave Franzis Sarreti the legitimate claims he needed to operate. In the aftermanth of Yana Dar's death he would have been executed along with his daughter, most probably, though Luzaya had a feeling that Naas Deron would have prevented those deaths quite forcefully. So, the perpetrators had avoided to challenge the two most powerful beings in the Empire, the Empress herself and the Cor'dan, and instead –

What had been their goal? What was it they sought to achieve? They must have calculated that the Royal Consort would survive, that Yana Dar would do everything in her power to find out who had tried to take her beloved from her, to weaken her government, and exact terrible justice. Wreacking her brain futilely, Luzaya felt too tired to come to a logical conclusion. There would be time later on to think this through, and once he was sufficiently recovered she would discuss this affair with her father in detail. He was very good at seeing through schemes, having initiated quite a few himself, over time. In that regard she was his loyal student. 

Gradually she became aware of singing, her mother's voice pitched into a sweet melody, a lullaby she had sung often to get her infant daughter to sleep. In past times Father would have joined her in that song, but today, amidst the gloomy light permeating the chamber, it was Luzaya who took up the second verse. Mother and daughter shared that night's vigil, both waiting anxiously for husband and father to wake again. Somewhere in the small hours of the next morning, with Yana finally having found some sleep, Luzaya was alerted by the sudden rustle of clothes as Naas Deron rose from his seat on the floor. They looked at one another, blue eyes meeting dark brown ones. Then, without another word, he left. For a moment the princess wondered what he would do, but then sleep overwhelmed her too. Her last thought was reserved for her parents.

TBC


	2. The Heart of Darkness

The Temple of Rebirth was bathed in the warm glow of a hundred torches that were spread all along the walls, but did not manage to permeate the cloud of shadows that hid the ceiling high above. An hour ago the evening service had ended, a stark ceremony that always impressed him with its simplicity and the sense of community it sparked among the believers. Not surprisingly it had included a common prayer spoken for the royal family in their plight. Perhaps a hundred people had attended, yet afterward Mahel Sivaraya had been held back from leaving the temple, his name spoken by the Cor'dan's calm, dark voice, calling him back.

Now, half an hour later, Mahel was lying face-down on the cool grey flagtiles, not daring to look up at the human towering over him. Hugging his body tightly to the cold stone, he felt elated, insanely glorious to have been chosen for this mission. Imagine! He was trembling ever so slightly, filled with apprehension and a desire to prove his worth in battle. He had been waiting for a long time for this. A long time. Now all of his dreams seemed to be coming true. 

Then the Cor'dan spoke: "Your guardian spirit was chosen well, Mahel Sivaraya, and you have proven your bravery time and again. Now I deem you the princess' protector, for the time being. You will be introduced to her through the Empress' Royal Guard. But my hand must remain hidden in this."

"Yes, Cor'dan, of course," Mahel breathed, feeling odd, an image of the lovely princess' face spinning before his mind's eye. 

When Naas Deron had first approached him a year ago, Mahel had been the first Yuuzhan Vong among the community worshipping at the Temple of Rebirth, defying his people's tradition and willingly risking his elders' wrath. He had also been the first of his kind to be reborn after the Naming Rite, a practise readopted with Luzaya Dan's own naming fifteen years ago. In a way she was the symbol for a past long gone that had been reclaimed, and his idol too. It was not a secret that the princess held a special place with the Cor'dan, that she was apprentice and lover to him. But the Cor'dan also had other agents, secret ones, and Mahel was one of them. Briefly he considered that the princess would know nevertheless who she had her bodyguard to thank for. She had seen Mahel in the temple often enough, after all. But Mahel did not go further than that, did not ponder the implications this discovery might entail. He was too excited to think straight.

"Excellent," Naas Deron answered at last. "The Empress will receive you. She is already waiting. So do not dawdle, young Mahel. Time is on our enemies' side. For now."

Hurriedly, Mahel scrambled to his feet and bowed toward the Cor'dan once more before he excused himself. Outside the temple night had fallen fully, and he quickened his pace as he walked along the Royal Promenade toward the Citadel. Soldiers were prowling the promenade, not surprisingly, and there were even more in front of the citadel's portal. The young Yuuzhan Vong presented himself weaponless, and inclined his head in greeting as he confronted the guards standing watch in front of the double doors.

"I am Mahel Sivaraya. Her Esteemed Highness Empress Yana Dar is expecting me."

Masked faces gazed at him impassively, and when none of the soldiers stirred, Mahel felt slightly nervous. But then one of the doors opened and a round human woman beckoned for him to come in. 

"I am Myryane Eastwinder, the majordomo. Follow me, quietly, and don't dare run off. The boys here will keep an eye on you," she added and gestured at the row of guards that lined the hallway as far as Mahel could see. "Now, Mahel, let us go and meet the Empress for your audience."

Suitably impressed, Mahel trailed after the majordomo gawking in awe. But he still held himself erect, remembering his warrior training and pride even at a moment like this. Yet he feared that his courage would desert him once he was alone with Yana Dar, the Empress. What would she say? Was he allowed to inquire after her consort's health? Should he wait for her to mention the Cor'dan's mission for him? All these questions, and more, tormented Mahel on his way toward the audience chamber. But foremost on his mind was Luzaya Dan.

The audience chamber's door was dark brown, almost black wood, inlaid with gold, and Myryane Eastwinder turned the heavy gold handle to allow them both to enter. Mahel tried not to breathe at all as he followed the majordomo into the chamber beyond. It was actually pretty narrow, with a high ceiling and stretching far into the distance. Windows made up the opposite wall, holo tableaus the other. And there, at the far end, stood three chairs. On one, the centermost, sat a woman, easily recognizable even at that distance. The other was occupied by a clerk or something, Mahel thought. The third, empty, was obviously reserved for him. Four red-robed Royal Guardsmen stood behind the Empress, a silent wall of menace. But Mahel's eyes were fixed in awe on the woman who had given his people a new home and future, dismissing everyone else quickly. 

The majordomo gracefully started toward the Empress, and again Mahel followed, feeling even more nervous than before. Empress Yana Dar wore a long-sleeved, dark blue dress with silver embroidery decorating the cuffs, and a silver band was nestled in her hair. Three raised scars decorated her high forehead, a reminder of her conquest. She looked ethereal, otherworldly, truly a goddess. Had the situation not been so serious, Mahel would have started fidgeting with anxiety and exhiliaration. 

Two meters in front of the chairs Myryane Eastwinder stopped and bowed deeply, indicating the Yuuzhan Vong standing slightly to the right and behind her. "Your Majesty, may I present to you Mahel Sivaraya," she said in a festive tone, and the Empress inclined her head gravely in acceptance. 

"Thank you, Myryane. You may leave. Mahel Sivaraya, please, take a seat."

He blushed a dark purple. "Your Majesty, with permission, I would rather remain standing."  
  
"Is that so." She smiled coolly, and that smile never touched her brilliant blue eyes. "Protocol demands it, Mahel Sivaraya." Leaning toward him conspiratively she added: "Actually, it is for security reasons. Seated you have less freedom of movement. Do you really want to affront my guardsmen?" she concluded challengingly.

"Surely not!" he exclaimed and hurriedly took his place on the vacant chair. The Empress leaned back again, apparently satisfied. Up close Mahel found that she looked gaunt, concerned. And no wonder. "Your – consort – is recovering?" he asked tentatively, unsure of whether that question was appropriate. Somehow this audience was less formal than he had anticipated.

"He is recovering, yes," she answered dispassionately. "You have been sent by Naas Deron, I know, but officially you will be assigned to act as my daughter's bodyguard by my decree." Mahel nodded mutely, enduring the Empress' inquisitive eyes on him. "Mahel Sivaraya, your name signifies a warrior's skills. Blade Wielder. Are you that good?"

"I believe so, yes."

  
"The Cor'dan can see the future on a naming day, I am told. I dearly hope he has seen yours correctly. I risk much by trusting his judgement. But why you? A Yuuzhan Vong. So young, too." Cocking her eyebrows meaningfully, the Empress clearly waited for him to supply her with a good reason to give her daughter's life into his care. 

"I do not claim to be more than a simple warrior, Your Majesty," he almost whispered, he was so excited. "All I can promise is my committment. To the death."

  
"A simple warrior, is that so?" she replied with a laugh. "Very well. Then a 'simple' warrior shall guard my daughter. I dearly hope you also possess a warrior's patience. With her, you will need it." 

The look in her eyes was curious, and Mahel suspected that she knew why he had been chosen, and was calculating the consequences of that choice. He wished he were that wise and knowledgeable. Suddenly she rose, and the clerk followed her example slowly, while Mahel almost leapt out of his chair in his hurry to join them. For a moment he felt horribly clumsy, when his chair toppled over and landed on the floor with a solid thud. The Empress, he saw, was barely able to suppress a smile. 

"I am terribly sorry," he breathed, embarrassed.

"Do not worry," the clerk said, his cool voice sending a jolt through Mahel's body. He knew that voice! "I recall Emperor Ja'han'mandana once managed to clear the entire dinner table doing what you just did," Franzis Sarreti concluded smoothly. Having had eyes only for the Empress, Mahel had not even recognized her consort! But then, Franzis Sarreti only seldomly addressed the people himself, that was a task reserved to the supreme ruler. 

Bowing hurriedly toward the slender human, Mahel blushed again. "Forgive me, Your Highness, for not having addressed you properly beforehand," he murmured.

"Oh? But you did. My _wife_ is empress, and in truth I _am_ little more than a clerk. One with a particularly tasking job, I admit. So you are forgiven, Mahel Sivaraya." Franzis Sarreti smiled at him out of a deadly pale face. And then Mahel understood that, as concerned father, the royal consort must have insisted on being allowed a glance at his daughter's future bodyguard too. The young Yuuzhan Vong noticed the worried look the Empress shot her husband, even though the man himself apparently did not, or ignored it. 

"Thank you, Your Highness," he answered at last.

Then Yana Dar waved for him to get moving, as she started for the distant door. "You understand that this audience was an informal one. All of this is very informal, but that does not mean you are to take your duty lightly," she told him earnestly.

"Never," he declared, heart-felt, as he followed her at a respectful distance. 

Turning back to face him, she waited for one of the guards to open the door. "Good," she said with a smile. "Then I wish you well on your post. And may your courage never waver. Guardsman, please escort Mahel Sivaraya to my daughter's quarters," the Empress added, her tone changing from private to official in an instant.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the faceless guard replied hurriedly, then left. Mahel gave the royal couple a last nod and followed. 

Yana waited until Mahel Sivaraya was out of sight, before she started in the opposite direction, toward her private chambers that she shared with her husband. Both were shadowed by the remaining Royal Guardsmen, hand-picked by Franzis, who always insisted on doing everything himself. He hated having to delegate, especially those matters he thought most important, like his family's security. Even though Yana usually found his caring endearing, if sometimes annoying, today she disapproved openly. When Franzis stumbled suddenly and crashed onto the luckily soft carpet of the hallway, she therefore let out a nasty curse, before she dropped down at her husband's side, holding his head up to check whether he was breathing. He gazed up at her apologetically, but was unable to speak.

"Get a medic," Yana ordered one of the guardsmen. "You two, carry him into that room over there and place him on the couch," she added, waving in the direction of one of the empty sitting-rooms. 

She was acutely aware of the fact that within four minutes her escort had shrunken by half. Her blue eyes flashing dangerously, she scanned their surroundings with a hawk-like stare, then followed the guardsmen into the chamber. Franzis had been laid out on the couch beneath the window, as requested, and the two guardsmen moved toward the door soundlessly to take up position there. One of them seemed to be speaking into his comm-link, judging by the way he held his helmeted head. Yana threw him a suspicious frown, then took a seat on the edge of the couch and propped another cushion underneath Franzis' head. She bent down low toward him, so her face was hidden from the guardsmen's view, and smiled lovingly. 

"You must hate me for all the times you have been hurt serving me," she murmured, and pressed a kiss on his clammy forehead. 

He shook his head weakly. "Don't take all the blame, love. That was my decision as much as yours. And I for one have never regretted that choice."

"Yet you never would have refused your empress' order," she teased him, and a tentative smile appeared on his lips, making her heart leap higher. 

But suddenly her anger rose again and she gently slapped his shoulder. "You are as stubborn as any man I know," she growled. "Why did you have to go and accompany me? I could have dealt with Mahel Sivaraya on my own quite easily. You should be resting."

"She is my daughter as much as yours," he replied calmly, and to Yana's shame there was not the faintest trace of defiance in his tone, reminding her again that _she_ was the impulsive one in their relationship. "I wanted to see if he is adequate," he finished slowly, his eyelids fluttering.

Yana shook her head at him. "Another word and I will have you silenced, my dear. Sleep now. We will speak about this later."

When he opened his mouth, seemingly to protest, she raised one eyebrow warningly and he subsided with a tired wink that melted her inside. She could not be angry at him, never at him. But she was furious at whoever had tried to kill him, secretly swearing to make her revenge terrible, something to remember for generations. He had been hurt so often already, always shielding her, and she would take it no more. Unfortunately the Empress was well aware of her realm's political climate. She knew exactly that most political leaders of the empire respected only strength. Thanks to Franzis she always appeared strong, invincible, otherwordly, but he was the heart of the government, and he was vulnerable. It did not bother the common people, she knew, most of them adored Franzis Sarreti as the Empress' elegant consort. But then, they had no idea what a hard and unforgiving man resided within that outer shell of genteel refinement and polite diplomacy. 

Franzis never forgot his enemies. He held the strings of government firmly in his hands, consulting his advisors, but accepting modifications to his policies only from his wife and supreme ruler. She knew she could trust him fully, could rely on his insight and skill as a politician, skills she did not have to that extent. Her temper did not allow for the patience that he needed. And still, she remembered all too well the disputes that had characterized the relations between her consort and the Dark Lord. Chi'in, though a hard warrior himself, was also infused by the same ultimate wisdom of forgiveness that had defined the era of Anakin Skywalker as Cor'dan, something Franzis had never accepted to such an extent. Anakin Skywalker's reputation had been enough to cow anyone into obedience, no matter how ambitious, no matter how zealous, so he had free reign in implementing his own philosophy. And Chi'in clan Rim'kai, the brilliant battle-leader and teacher that he was, had never bothered with politics. His directive was given by the Empress alone, excempting him from the power-struggles back on Byss.

But times had changed.

Three years ago Anakin and Chi'in – both admittedly past their prime – had decided to step down from their posts, signalling the end of an era of reconstruction. Yana remembered how she had pleaded with them to stay, begging them not to leave her alone with the burden she had accepted. But her argument had defeated itself. _She_ had accepted that burden, and she had to decide how long she wanted to continue carrying it. He hopes had been set into her daughter, with anyone else either inept or too forceful in their approach to be considered her successor. But Luzaya had decided to take another path.

Yana sat back with a frown, and caught her husband quietly gazing up at her face. His grey eyes were thoughtful, as if he were thinking the same she was. Gently she reached out to brush his scarred cheek, but was too preoccupied to smile once more. He took her hand, squeezing it with utmost tenderness, and all of a sudden Yana felt tears fall from her eyes. Force help her, everything she had fought for seemed to teeter at the edge of a great abyss. The only future she could see was a grisly scene of fighting and blood-shed. The sound of the door opening brought her head around, and she gave the medical team that entered a hard glance, before she rose to make room for them.

"I will come by later," she mouthed at Franzis, then nodded at the guardsmen. They followed her out into the hallway, where a contingent of ten more guards was standing to rigid attention. "You will stay and guard my husband," she ordered them, not waiting for an answer before she strode toward her chambers, only her two remaining original guards in tow. 

Even before she had reached her threshold Myryane Eastwinder ran to meet her. "Your Highness," the plump woman panted and bobbed a curtsy. "His Excellency High Priest Elu Cha requests an immediate audience with you."

"Concerning?"

"The investigation of the assassination attempt on you husband. He offers the deception sect's services to you."

"He _offers_ their services?" Yana mused aloud, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "He is _obliged_ to investigate!" With an imperious gesture she waved the majordomo away. "I will see him at once."

"Yes, Your Majesty:"

The Empress was pacing the length of her audience chamber impatiently, her long hair flying behind her like an angry banner, echoing her mood. When Myryane reappeared to present Elu Cha, Yana shooed the woman out again before she had said three words. Then, hands clenched into tight fists, she rounded on the High Priest. 

"You dare come to me for an audience to get my permission for an investigation!" she snarled. "You should already be at work! I need not remind you of your constitutional duties, High Priest! The deception sect is responsible for gathering intelligence, for investigating crime! If you need a directive from me to act, I suggest your sect is useless!"

"Your Majesty, I – "

  
"On your knees!" she snapped, and held out her left hand. A mental order prompted her amphistaff to slither out from underneath the fabric of her dress' long sleeve, and it curled around her wrist apprehensively, waiting for further instruction. 

Elu Cha stared at the snake-like creature with eyes wide. Obviously he had not expected this. But then he dropped to his knees obediently, and lowered his head in deference. "My life is yours, Empress. Command me. Slay me, if I have offended you."

"We shall see," the Empress replied in a low purr and slipped her left hand underneath his chin. The amphistaff curiously followed her movement and wrapped half of its length around the Yuuzhan Vong priest's neck, while its tail-end firmly held on to Yana's wrist. It was well-trained, her amphistaff, and as deadly as any other. "Tell me, Elu Cha, why should I trust the deception sect to conduct this investigation to my satisfaction? How can I be certain that it was not you who ordered this cowardly attack on my husband's life?"

"Honor, Empress," he answered stiffly.

"A rare trait, today," was her dry comment.

He looked up sharply, ignoring the warning hiss uttered by the amphistaff. "Command me, Empress, and I will prove my honor to you."

"I command you, Elu Cha," she whispered, her eyes unfocusing ever so slightly as she established contact to the yammosk on Kynda'bey. With the yammosk there was no deception possible, and only the most select beings were implanted with a transceiver that connected them to the telepath. Among them was also Elu Cha, of course, but no one could manipulate the yammosk, except for the Cor'dan. "Tell me who was behind this attack."  


"I do not know," he answered, and she saw his sincere confusion, frustration and anger at the attack in the yammosk's roaring mind. He really had no clue. 

Releasing him again, Yana ordered her amphistaff back into the small pocket that was hidden inside her left sleeve. Then she took a step back. "Rise," she ordered calmly, then turned away to walk toward the window. "I do not take threats against my family lightly, Excellency. And I have not forgotten your 'offer' of assistance. I do not want to hear anything like that again. All of you have a special task given to you by the constitution. I am Empress, and I am guardian of that constitution, for our people's benefit. I take my duties very seriously. You should too." Holding her head high, she gazed directly into his eyes. "Dismissed."

By that time Mahel had grown used to the gloomy hallways, but the guardsman led him up another level, into one of the citadel's towers. A ramp spiraled up to the top, instead of a turbo-lift, and that caught Mahel's attention at once. Why would anyone give up such comfort willingly? Unless there was a turbo-lift, a secret one, and this long walk was designed to hold off an enemy, make his way longer and harder, to allow oneself to prepare. Mahel smiled to himself. It seemed significant that Luzaya Dan had chosen these quarters – if she had done so herself. Testimony to a cautious nature, perhaps even insecurity. On the other hand the citadel's towers were also more vulnerable to attack, and they _did_ overlook most of the city. Suddenly Mahel felt uncertain. Was she insecure or vain, then? Dismissing those thoughts at last he told himself that he would find out soon enough.

"Here we are," the guardsman announced suddenly and gestured toward a broad door, this one almost as elaborately carved and decorated as the one leading to the Empress' private audience chamber. 

But then, as apprentice to the Cor'dan, Luzaya Dan probably needed this ceremonial design to feel comfortable. Only belatedly did Mahel remember that the Cor'dan himself owned a set of rooms that were very spartan, actually. Confused, he stumbled forward when the guardsman gave him a slight shove to get him going. The door had opened without him noticing, but his view was blocked by a heavy, dark red curtain, that hung from the ceiling down to the broad-tiled floor. 

"You do not carry any weapons?" the red-robed guard murmured at his back, and Mahel almost jumped. 

"I do have weapons," he replied hastily. "But I was not allowed to bring them to the audience."  


"Ill-prepared and young," the other soldier said laconically. "I will have them brought up here."

"Thank you," Mahel whispered, then the door closed again, sealing him inside Luzaya Dan's quarters' ante-chamber. Slowly, reverentially, he walked around the curtain and stood for a moment, just staring. The ante-chamber consisted of an entire section of the tower, a large half-circle whose entire curve was covered by transparisteel, that offered a spectacular view over the lights of the city below. A heap of cushions and a low, intricate table were the only decoration that sat atop the large rug that had been spread over the tiles. In one corner a staircase led up to the living quarters. 

"Hello?" Mahel called out, not wanting to intrude on the princess' privacy.

"Come!" a young, female voice called out from above.

Walking up the stairs, Mahel composed himself somewhat. The room upstairs was lit by candles, with chandeliers standing all along the round single wall. The room was huge, and partitioned by more curtains. Behind one he could make out a dais, and on that stood a large bed, its shape hidden behind a second, flimsier curtain.

"Over here!"

Mahel hurried toward the voice and found Luzaya Dan seated in front of a large mirror. Everything seemed large and generous in these quarters, he found. She was busy circling her full lips with a dark pencil, emphasizing them even more. Her eyelids had already been painted black, giving her pale blue eyes a piercing quality. Those eyes were directed at the mirror right then, fixed on Mahel's reflection. 

"So," the princess said, placing the pencil on a table next to her, and smacked her lips once. "You are my new bodyguard?" Her hair, blond like her mother's, but growing in soft waves instead of tight curls, shone in the candle-light. 

"Yes, Your Highness," Mahel said, once he had found his voice again.

"And your name?"

"Mahel Sivaraya, Your Highness."

"Good." The princess pointed at another table that stood a few meters away from where she sat and which was laden with fruit and other foodstuff, plus a decanter filled with a black liquid. "Hand me a glass of that wine, please. I know you are my bodyguard, not bodyservant, but the others have all gone to bed already."

Mahel wondered quietly why she was painting her face like that if everyone else had gone to bed already, as he wandered over to pour her a glass of black wine. His question was answered when he heard the door below open and close. Instantly, he tensed, but the princess rose from her seat, unconcerned, and took the glass out of his hand without a word, her eyes fixed on the stairs. A moment later Naas Deron appeared and gave Mahel a calculating glance, that the young warrior returned in kind. Suddenly Mahel blushed, realizing just why the princess had been putting on those paints. 

"Mahel Sivaraya?" Naas Deron asked, as if he did not know him. The Yuuzhan Vong nodded mutely. "There was a guardsman who left a set of weapons downstairs. I suggest you go pick them up."

"Yes, of course," Mahel replied smoothly and bowed ever so slightly. "I shall take up position downstairs, then."

Luzaya Dan gave him an evil stare, but Naas Deron simply nodded. Relieved, Mahel made his escape.

TBC


	3. The Beginning of A Plan

****

It was later that night that Franzis awoke quite suddenly, disorientated. At once Yana was huddled above him, her hands searching his face in the dark, a gesture that was meant to soothe him, but only served to show her anxiety. In the darkness of their bedroom he gently took her hands and folded them across his heart, drawing her closer for a slow kiss. It lasted for a long time, and when he released her again she settled down beside him with a content sigh. Franzis could hear her breathing, slow and measured, and her every movement on the bedsheets made the fabric rustle ever so slightly. Strange, how darkness heightened one's senses. He ran the back of his hand over her face, relishing in the feel of her soft, warm skin, the wrinkles he could make out tarnishing her smooth cheeks. They were both getting older. But she was still as beautiful, still as precious to him as she had been the day he had confessed his love to her. 

Franzis recalled how frightened, how angry she had been that previous evening, when he had defied her request to not join her in the audience she had arranged with Mahel Sivaraya. So much guilt. But he gave gladly, for her he would give anything, at any time. Even though he knew that she could never do the same for him. 

"Are you crying?" he asked, suddenly becoming aware of the wetness covering his exploring fingertips on her face. She drew away, breaking contact with him. "Don't," he pleaded, and his sadness must have been audible in that single word, for she was with him again immediately, her left arm snaking over his chest in a tentative embrace.

"It is nothing," she murmured, but he did not buy it.

Franzis pondered what to say. Then he asked in a whisper: "What are you going to do?"

"Find those bastards," she answered heatedly, the menace in her voice burning hotly across his face. 

"And then?"

"Kill them slowly."

"All by yourself?" he asked, almost amused.

"You can assist me, if you want to."

"With the greatest pleasure, my love."

  
They fell silent again, each lost in thought. But where Franzis was sure she was thinking of exactly what she had threatened to do, he was rather more occupied with trying to discern what Luzaya would be doing right now, and later. She had assisted in his healing, Yana had told him, and that bothered him quite a bit. When Luzaya had decided to find her own freedom by apprenticing herself to Naas Deron, both he and her mother had kept back, never questioning her motives. They did not know what the future held for their daughter, what destiny her name stood for. That knowledge was reserved for the Cor'dan alone. Luzaya Dan, Life in Darkness. It seemed like a bad omen, and yet their daughter was a bright star to both Yana and Franzis. 

But she was getting older too.

  
He realized, of course, that a child needed to find her own way into her future, that they could not hold her hand all the way. But Luzaya was not just any child. She was their only child. The future of the Empire. He scolded himself for thinking that way, of seeing in her the same he had seen in her mother before they had revealed their mutual feelings for one another. An icon. Yet he still made that distinction between wife and empress. That same distinction he made between daughter and princess, daughter and future Cor'dan. And once again he asked himself whether his daughter had made the right choice. 

"He is with her again," Yana murmured suddenly.

"You should not do that," he admonished her. "Leave her her privacy."

She shifted her weight ever so slightly and raised her head to look at him in the dark. "I still wonder what he wants with her. What he truly wants."

"Ask him."

Her hand, that had been lying peacefully on his chest, curled into a fist. "He will not dare stand in my way," she hissed, her sudden anger frightening even her husband. "I will have my revenge, and he is obliged to speak judgement. I will see them dead for this."

"Yana –"

"What!"

He carefully wrapped her in his arms and hugged her to his body. "Hush, darling. Don't let anger rule you now. Naas Deron was named Cor'dan for a reason."

"I know." Kissing his chin, Yana gave another sigh. "But where Lord Skywalker was an epitome of grace and forgiving, Naas Deron is a vengeful firebrand. I cannot control him."

A chilling thought entered Franzis' head. "You believe _he_ will bring that darkness?"

"Nothing is written," she whispered. "But in this world and beyond all things are possible."

****

Naas Deron woke up very early and found Luzaya still asleep, her slender body wrapped around his for warmth and comfort. Her long hair was draped over his shoulder, her left arm curled around his neck and her leg lay over his hips, pinning him to the bed effectively. Well. He had some time before the morning service begun. Looking down at her sleeping features, so young with last evening's make-up almost gone, so delicate, he found that Luzaya Dan was as innocent and ignorant as she herself thought. He knew that there had been times when their roles had been revised, when she had sat awake, watching him sleep, while pondering his plans. Yet contrary to her, he knew what she would do. 

For a moment he let his senses expand outward, until he found Mahel's presence. The young Yuuzhan Vong was awake, but bone-weary. He had to have lived through a nightmare last evening, Deron thought with a cold smile. He knew of Mahel's feelings toward the princess, better than Mahel himself. With any luck this little performance would rouse the young warrior's competitiveness and intensify his committment to protecting a desired female. And once Luzaya was out of the Cor'dan's sight, Mahel would undoubtedly make his move. Tenderly, he brushed his fingers through her soft hair. She was always wondering what his intentions were concerning her, never realizing her own role in his scheme. But she would find out soon enough. Deron had expected an attack on the royal family for some time now, and things were much clearer now that it had come at last. Franzis Sarreti was tough and would recover, and until he _was_ recovered Naas Deron had free reign to pursue his own plans. 

Shifting his weight, he turned toward the curtain. "Mahel," he called softly, not wanting to wake Luzaya just yet. "Please have the staff prepare a breakfast for one. I will not be staying."  


"Yes, of course," came the muffled reply, then he could hear the Yuuzhan Vong walk down the stairs to alert the princess' personal staff. 

Once he knew Mahel down in the ante-chamber, Deron gently disengaged from his lover's embrace and sat up. No one knew what he was planning, and that was well. It was part of being Cor'dan, to know what others did not, and to move secretly, to arrange matters so events could fall in place properly. As he reached for his clothes, he pondered his next few steps, and where they would lead him eventually. The past. 

When he had been initiated as Cor'dan three years ago, he had been instructed on the history of the Cor'dan, of the Sith. Alda Magor, Roj Kell's predecessor, had been the last of many Cor'dan, each responsible for his or her specific clan. The Dark Jedi had killed all the others, only the Jen-clan on Os'jen'thana had survived for a few centuries longer. Alda Magor's husband, an Alderaani Dark Jedi named Lyve Waroon, had assisted his mistress immensely in keeping the Jen-People hidden, according to the Seeker. But with Roj Kell the role of the Cor'dan had changed, lost much of its original duties. Though it had been inevitable that the Cor'dan adopt new tasks, with the Jen all gone, it were those ancient duties that Naas Deron sought to recover, just as Yana Dar was recovering the past traditions of the Sith culture. But her endeavor was not well received, neither by her allies, not by some of her subjects. This assassination attempt proved it. 

The micro-organisms that had been used to poison Franzis Sarreti had been bio-engineered, pointing toward Yuuzhan Vong involvement. While Naas Deron was convinced of that, there were a few things he suspected, but could not prove. He knew very well that, as Cor'dan, he was under close scrutiny from the governors, priests and warlords of the Empire, and while they feared him, they would not hesitate to kill him either, if given the chance. In fact, they had already tried numerous times. He gave a mirthless smile at that. Rising to his feet, now fully dressed, he shrugged into his cloak and drew the curtain aside to step out into the room. No, he had to stay here, to take control once chaos broke out, and it would, he knew. But Luzaya would not remain here, she would crave answers she could not find in the palace. Nodding at Mahel, who was just coming up the stairs again, Naas Deron waved the young Yuuzhan Vong closer.

"Mahel Sivaraya," he began gravely, "I did not mean to embarrass you. Rest assured that all I do here serves a purpose. An important goal."

"Finding the ones who tried to kill His Highness?"

"Yes. Now," Deron turned away from the bed, and started toward the staircase, lowering his voice. "Luzaya Dan is a headstrong woman, and she will not stay idle while her father's would-be killers are still on the loose. You will assist her in everything she does, and should she choose to leave, you will accompany her."

"You believe she will leave?" Mahel asked, aghast. 

"I do not believe, Mahel, I know. " He smiled at the younger man. "I will not be expecting you to show up at the morning service, but unfortunately I have to go now. Keep an eye on her and keep her out of trouble."

"Of course, Cor'dan," the Yuuzhan Vong warrior replied hurriedly, then inclined his head respectfully. 

"Good. I rely on you," Deron concluded, then left for good. 

He was not the first Cor'dan to use a network of agents; that had started with Anakin Skywalker, who had kept his confidants close at hand. Wrenga Jixton, Mara Jade and Nuron Sarin had served as his eyes and ears, until he had retired to Naboo for good. Now Deron had expanded that net, using offplanet and onplanet sources to keep him posted on events throughout the galaxy. Some of his own agents also worked for the Council of Naboo, allowing the Cor'dan to cooperate with them and vice versa. It was an extended network that permeated every nation of the galaxy, mostly without the immediate knowledge of the local leadership. 

Walking through the hallways, bustling with servants at this time of day, he was smiling to himself. Let Mahel believe that his goals were so petty as to finding a bunch of criminals whose identities he already knew all too well. No, his was a grander dream. The Sith Empire would regain its power. They had made too many compromises in the past. But first, first he had to teach his enemies a lesson, a painful one. In that he was becoming more similar to Roj Kell than he would have wished for. Deron had never liked the man, not even in the Sith enclave on Korriban, where he had studied under Chi'in. But as Cor'dan, Deron had to admit, Roj Kell had been the one who had single-handedly kept the tradition alive, who had kept the flame of their legacy inside himself, to be released in time.

"Cor'dan!" High Priest Elu Cha bobbed his mutilated head in respectful acknowledgement. 

Deron, who was on his way along the Royal Promenade toward the temple, regarded the High Priest of the deception sect of Yun-Harla with a cold smile. "What brings you out here this early?" he asked. 

"Business," Elu Cha answered. "I am sure you know that Her Highness has charged us with uncovering the background of this assassination attempt."

"I see. I was not aware of that," Naas Deron aswered pleasantly. "Walk with me, if you will. I do not want to be late for the morning service." 

He noticed the grimace on the Yuuzhan Vong's face, though Elu Cha tried hard to suppress his disgust. The Yuuzhan Vong priests did not approve of the fact that the Cor'dan was attracting his own followers, among them young Yuuzhan Vong, like Mahel Sivaraya, who wore their unbroken, unmutilated skin with pride, who believed in a power more merciful than the traditional gods of their people. A new generation was growing, and one day no one would remember Yun-Harla, Yun-Yammka or Yun-Yuuzhan as anything else than what they had truly been. Mortals, just like the people they had conquered so long ago. 

"The Empress seems confident that we will find the perpetrators soon," Elu Cha began anew. "Personally, I do not see that yet."

"I am sure you will do your best to please the Empress."  
  
"We will do our best to solve this crime."  


"Good. Very good. No one expects more of you, I am sure," Naas Deron replied coldly. He frowned, when he saw someone walking toward him, someone he would rather not have met today. But she had already seen him, and was waving to get his attention. He forced a smile on his face and nodded at her as she came closer. "Ambassador, it is a pleasure to see you."

Ambassador Beryd joined the two males, but Deron noticed that she kept a distance from Elu Cha, and the disgust and fear in her stance and emotions was unmistakable. 

"Cor'dan," she said and gave a respectful bow that was slightly less respectful when directed at the High Priest. "The New Republic is concerned as to the Royal Consort's health and would offer medical assistance, if required," Beryd explained at length, a pleasant smile pasted on her bland features. She had been called into service on Byss only four months ago, and she still seemed unsure whether that was promotion or demotion. 

"The Empress certainly appreciates your offer, Ambassador, but it is hardly necessary," Deron replied politely.

"Then he is recovering?" Her tone changed very abruptly, and a calculating expression entered her features.

"Yes."  


"Do you have a clue as to who was behind this assassination attempt?"

"I am not respinsible for such investigations," he said, nodding toward Elu Cha. "High Priest Elu Cha and the deception sect will uncover the perpetrators."  


Forgetting her own revulsion, Ambassador Beryd turned to face the Yuuzhan Vong fully, all business. "Forgive my frankness, Your Highness, but will you persecute each group with equal measures?"

"You fear we might favor our own people?" Elu Cha asked nastily. "Do not fear, Ambassador. The Empire is united. This is a matter of honor, and we will treat it accordingly."  


"Rest assured that anyone, no matter who, will be punished with utmost severity," Naas Deron added for Elu Cha's sake. 

He doubted that Beryd had any clue about the workings of Yuuzhan Vong culture. Franzis Sarreti had shown himself to be vulnerable. Never a good image to project toward possibly hostile elements within the government and empire. And exactly what the traitors had sought to achieve. Ambassador Beryd gave the Cor'dan a gracious nod, then excused herself. Watching her go, Deron frowned. What would she tell her superior on Coruscant? How would they interpret these events?

"I suggest the infidels will believe the Empire to succumb to internal strife," Elu Cha offered suddenly, surprisingly calm.

Looking up sharply at the tall alien, Naas Deron was unsure whether this was meant as insult or if it was a sincere statement. He forced a smile onto his lips slowly. "That they will believe, no doubt," he admitted. "Yet I wonder who would benefit from such an impression on the infidels. Would they risk another war? I doubt it."

"Then you suspect the threat to come from within the Empire?"

Naas Deron gave the High Priest a stern glance. "I am Cor'dan, Your Excellency. I do not suspect, I do not believe, I make no educated guesses. Do we understand one another?"

"Perfectly well, yes," Elu Cha replied smoothly. 

"Good. Then I will keep you no longer from your investigations. I know how impatient the Empress can get when she does not receive her progress reports on time."

He left the Yuuzhan Vong standing and marched off toward the temple. An impression of internal strife and the Empress' wrath would certainly fuel what animosities already determined relations between the Empire and the New Republic. Suprisingly, the Chiss seemed to have no problem with Yana Dar's policy, but then, Ja'han'mandana was just as cold and ruthless as the Empress, and understood her well enough. And yet, with certain elements from within the New Republic backing the scheme of the Yuuzhan Vong traitors, this affair might well turn into open rebellion, which would break the Empire forever. 

This was why he had assigned Mahel Sivaraya to guard Luzaya Dan. In a sense Luzaya was the one who carried the hopes of the younger generation, who was untutored enough not to become a target for the older ones, that may harbor resentments against her mother. Mahel was not only a supporter of the new Sith Empire and the Cor'dan, he was also courageous enough to explore the mysteries of the freedom that lay beyond his people's rigid caste system. Yana Dar had abolished slavery and the shunning of the former Shamed Ones, but prejudices remained. It was too soon for true unity, and yet, Naas Deron worked hard at uniting the Shamed Ones and younger Yuuzhan Vong under his religious leadership, the same Anakin Skywalker had done before him. 

Deron found it safer to follow his predecessor's policies, knowing that the former Dark Lord had a greater insight into politics than he had, though he himself was learning too. Had to, in his position. It had also been Anakin Skywalker, who had connected the Temple of Rebirth to the entire realm. Now the morning and evening services were being transmitted even to the farthest worlds of the empire, breaking the stranglehold of the Yuuzhan Vong sects on the colonists that had settled in former Chiss' space. All in the name of the religious freedom the Empress supported. She was shrewd, just like her Cor'dan. 

Entering the Temple of Rebirth through his private chambers, Naas Deron stopped short at the threshold to the sanctuary itself. There was a feeling in the air... Abruptly he whirled around, frowning at the shadows. Almost immediately a short figure emerged from the darkness, melding into the foreground like a ghost. Deron relaxed a fraction, but only a fraction. Then he nodded at the newcomer. 

"Andarack clan Rim'kai. What brings you here unannounced?"

"News," the Noghri Sith warrior replied calmly. 

Andarack had been off-world for quite some time, gathering information. His grey skin had darkened with age, and he had learned much under his great-uncle's tutelage. But Chi'in had chosen to retire along with his closest friend, Anakin Skywalker, and for three years now the post the older Noghri had occupied over the past twelve years had remained vacant. Naas Deron frequently urged the Empress to find a successor, and she told him just as regularly that this needed time and thorough examination of possible candidates. But so far not one warlord or warrior had distinguished himself enough to be named Dark Lord of the Sith.

Deron waved the Noghri closer and they entered the sanctuary together. No one was present yet, but very soon the temple's interior would fill up with the small community of worshippers Deron had managed to attract. "Tell me," the Cor'dan asked quietly. "What news?"

Andarack gazed at him out of huge eyes, his prominent teeth making him look even fiercer in the gloomy light of the temple. "The Council has received a curious request for assistance from a world named Bakura. It is at the edges of New Republic space," the Noghri reported. "Al'than'erudo suspects a somewhat clumsy attempt at diverting the Council's attention from something else. I just heard what happened here."

"The Head of the Council is probably right in assuming just that," Deron replied pensively. "Yet this is too obvious. They will need to investigate nevertheless."

"Yes," Andarack agreed, nodding sharply. "You know what is behind this assassination attempt?"

"Power, as always," the Cor'dan replied dismissively. "The Empress' most vulnerable point is her family, and her husband in particular. She will feel guilty for having put him in danger again, perhaps even urge him to step down from his post as head administrator. Not before she has found and punished the ones who tried to kill him, that is."

"What does that gain her enemies?"

"Yana Dar can only judge her own people, and request any outsiders to be investigated by their governments also. I suspect the New Republic will find itself in a position where it cannot side with the Empress, out of ethical reasons, I assume. When they refuse to cooperate with her, the Empress will be forced to draw the consequences. Her political enemies might accuse her of misconduct of her power, which derives from the people, as you know. They might try to put her on trial for that. By new Imperial law that means that if she is forced out of office she will be executed." He grimaced ever so slightly. "A concession to appease the Yuuzhan Vong leaders. If that happens, the Empire will sink into chaos. But I am certain that Yana Dar would rather step down voluntarily than let that happen. Everyone has been looking to Luzaya Dan to assume the throne after her mother, and I had been working hard on gaining her the support she needs to be elected, but she has chosen to become Cor'dan instead."  


"Why did you encourage her then? You asked her to become your apprentice, as far as I know; she did not ask."

Naas Deron gave the Noghri a thin smile. "She came to me with a purpose. Had I not made that first step she would have done so, undoubtedly. I cannot make other people's choices, Andarack. I can only show them the way. But this may now prove an advantage. With her choice Luzaya has maneuvered herself out of the line of fire of her mother's enemies. They will not suspect the princess to pose a threat. Besides, they hope to get rid both of her mother and her teacher. Imagine. Luzaya Dan has been pampered by her parents and their friends for all her life. True, she is an attentive student, but her knowledge does not exceed theory so far. She resents her own ignorance, but she is still spoiled. As a novice to politics, though, should she suddenly find herself without guidance, she will be at a loss of what to do. She will seek help."

Andarack shrugged. "I still don't understand how that is helping the situation."

"Do you believe in destiny?"

The Noghri's forehead narrowed ever so slightly. "I see what you mean," he breathed at last. But before he could continue, the first members of the small community of believers appeared at the threshold, hesitating to come closer, fearing that they were disturbing the Cor'dan. Deron waved at Andarack impatiently.

"We will talk later," he hissed.

The morning service passed without incident, but the moment he had spoken the last words of the closing rite, Naas Deron became aware of two newcomers. Luzaya was standing beside the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, and stared at him in that calculating manner she had observed her mother to employ when she was displeased. Mahel Sivaraya was with her, obediently standing just so that he could shield her against any attack both from outside and inside of the temple. He had donned the traditional Yuuzhan Vong armor and an amphistaff lay curled around his left forearm. A heavy blaster rifle was slung over his shoulder. Naas Deron almost smiled at the sight. Both Imperial and Yuuzhan Vong culture were becoming more and more entwined, preceding something almost entirely new. For a moment he wondered how the empire might look like in a thousand years time, but then he remembered the Seeker's lecturing words on that subject. _Circumstances may change, but the basics always stay the same. _

Deron released the worshippers with a last blessing, then stood waiting at the temple's altar, set into the midst of the chamber, and watched Luzaya make her way toward him, accepting the condolences and well-wishes of the people graciously. Yet he could sense her impatience well enough. Finally the last stragglers had left the grand chamber and Luzaya planted herself in front of the Cor'dan, pale blue eyes ablaze. 

"You leave just like that, let me sleep in and miss the service!" she snapped. "Mahel had to wake me up!"

"You are old enough to find your way to the temple without me showing you the way," he replied coolly. 

She paled visibly, suddenly remembering that she was, apart from being his lover, also his apprentice. "I beg your forgiveness, Cor'dan," Luzaya managed in a strangled whisper. 

"Granted. Clear up the sanctuary, then meet me in my chambers. We need to talk." Deron directed a hard glance at Mahel. "Your only task is to protect her, so don't let her talk you into helping her," he warned the young warrior.

Then he turned away to retreat into the back of the temple, where Andarack was still waiting for him. The Noghri had taken a seat on one of the cushions that had been scattered around a low table in what passed for the living-room of the Cor'dan's private chambers. Joining him, Naas Deron kept silent for a while, listening to Luzaya's heart-felt curses echoing in the distance. He shrugged at the questioning glance Andarack gave him. 

"You can hear that she is still more child than woman," he explained at length. "In some ways, at least."

Andarack leaned toward him, his large eyes intense. "Deron, if what you suspect is true, it will happen soon, and she is not prepared for this. Why have you been waiting so long to train her?"

"Some say that destiny waits on no one, but fate is not written in the stars, Andarack. She will learn. But I have no use of her when our enemies strike. She has to leave before that, and leave she will."

"You are taking too great a risk by sending her away. If that coup happens, Luzaya will not be here to take her mother's place. She is your shield, for now. You should realize that." 

Naas Deron nodded grimly. "I do realize that, my friend. I do. But you should know that I have learned by now how to build up less visible shields. They have been testing my strength over the past few months, and failed each time."

"So they have already tried to kill you?"

"Of course."

"You are not taking those threats seriously." It was no question.

"They are not serious yet, but I do not discount the fact that they might become so in the near future," Deron answered with another shrug.

"Does Luzaya know?"

"No one knows, not even the Empress. Except for you." His eyes narrowed ever so lightly. "I will need assurances from the Council, if they can arrange it. Just in case."

TBC


	4. Someone knows too much

When she was finished with clearing up the sanctuary Luzaya felt calmer, her temper cooled somewhat. Yet resentment was still simmering in her heart. Even though her primary motive of becoming Naas Deron's apprentice had been to learn, she realized that the more intimate relationship that connected her to her mentor was getting the better of her. She felt rejected, used and ignored, something that would never have even registered with her had they not been lovers, but simply master and apprentice. If she followed reason her only choice would be to end their private relationship and keep the professional one. But the princess found it hard to let go. Did she love him? No. And still, there was _something_, some feeling she could not ignore. 

Suddenly she glared at Mahel, as if he might be able to read her thoughts somehow. He was not even looking at her, but kept his gaze wandering all over the temple's sanctuary like the good bodyguard he was supposed to be. Luzaya gave a low snort. If Naas had thought to keep his hand hidden in deploying that watchdog he had blundered badly, and probably that had been deliberate on his part. But what did it mean? Why Mahel Sivaraya of all soldiers available? He was young, and he must have been an inexperienced warrior by the end of the war, for him to bear no scars of honor at all. Well, Luzaya mused, she had not seen all of him yet, and usually the warriors wore their mutilations openly and in prominent places. So, he had obviously rejected that cruel custom of his people. Why? The answer was obvious. Mahel had chosen to find a new belief in the Cor'dan's teachings on balance. 

With newfound respect the princess straightened to study him more intently. For all the clumsiness and naivité he had displayed just yesterday, he was much more courageous than she had been when choosing to run from her sheltered home. Contrary to Mahel, Luzaya had kept her ties to her home, which was convenient as well as comfortable. Her chest tightened in apprehension. Perhaps she was more of a coward than she had thought. On one hand she did not want to be sheltered and looked after all the time, but on the other hand she was afraid to let go and start a life of her own. Mahel must have noticed her steady gaze, for he turned his head to look at her with a question plain in his dark eyes. The princess shook her head with a reassuring smile and he resumed his watch again unpertubed. 

"Well, I am finished," she announced, already turning toward the back of the sanctuary. Mahel followed her instantly as she made for the far end and entered the gloomy hallway that connected the temple's santuary to the Cor'dan's living-quarters. 

They were made up of three rooms, all oppressive and dark, with no windows at all. Naas Deron had explained to her that it felt better to have no distraction at all for once, and she guessed that, as Cor'dan, one was exposed to the world constantly, assaulted by images and sounds of any kind. The first room was where she found her teacher, seated on one of the large cushions set around a low table, with fat candles illuminating the gloomy scene. A short alien was seated on another cushion, and rose abruptly when she entered. 

"Princess," he said with a small bow, and Luzaya nodded at him graciously.

"A pleasure to see you again, Andarack clan Rim'kai."

A choking sound from behind her snapped her head around, and she saw Mahel's eyes blaze with something she had never thought to see in his placid features: anger. All of a sudden his face, dominated by high cheekbones and a low forehead that sloped backward and made him look like the member of some feline species, appeared very menacing indeed. She saw his body tense, his shoulders curling inward, his back bowed ever so slightly. And if she was any judge she was standing between him and his quarry. Stepping out of the way smartly, Luzaya gave Andarack a calm glance. The Noghri seemed fairly unimpressed by the young Yuuzhan Vong's display of hostility, but then, he could be. As Sith warrior, the Noghri was a formidable foe. Naas was watching both the Noghri and Mahel intently, his dark eyes suddenly much harder than before. Then he waved his right hand curtly and frowned. 

"Mahel. None of this is justified," the Cor'dan admonished the warrior sharply, and the Yuuzhan Vong relaxed instantly, like a well-trained battle-dog.

But Andarack continued gazing at his would-be opponent intently. "What is your problem?" he asked.

"A death in the family," was Mahel's choked answer. 

Luzaya stared at him, then at Andarack. Revelation came with sudden clarity. Of course, one lost one's old name upon Naming Day. Before she had become Luzaya Dan her parents had called her Jolene, and Mahel Sivaraya must have shed his old name too, once he had agreed to the naming. The fact that he displayed such hatred toward Andarack clan Rim'kai now could only mean that he was a relative of the Yuuzhan Vong Warmaster Marayl Carr, whom Andarack had slain during the battle for Almashin, a kill that had gained him a lot of respect and fear throughout the realm. Even though all Yuuzhan Vong were keen on honor and revenge concerning family, the vehemence of the young warrior's reaction prompted her to conclude that Marayl Carr had been his father, most probably. 

Her respect for Mahel increased a hundredfold, especially for his show of restraint and courage to put that grief behind him. But at the same time her curiosity peaked, as she asked herself why he had chosen to shed that past. To forget? To avoid becoming a slave to revenge? Or out of sincere committment to balance? Yet Luzaya had learned enough not to simply blurt out her questions. When Naas bade her to sit down she did as told, joining him and Andarack, while Mahel remained standing, which was perfectly acceptable for her bodyguard. She tore her attention back into the present and looked directly at her teacher.

"Cor'dan, you asked to speak to me?"

He nodded, having dismissed the small incident instantly. "Concerning your father."  


Luzaya's brows shot up. "Yes?"

"The Cor'dan is guide and guardian, meaning that you must provide guidance if asked. Your father is not a proud man, I know, but a perfectionist. He will feel useless, now that he is temporarily unable to conduct state affairs. You should go to him and offer an ear for his sorrows."

"And learn?" she asked slyly. That had been one of his first lessons, that more information was gained by listening than by asking questions, especially if they were the wrong ones. 

He nodded. "And learn. Yes. I know you have a lot of questions that need answering," he added quietly, and was right on target. Luzaya blushed slightly before she rose with a small bow. 

"Yes, Cor'dan. I will go and learn," she replied. 

When she turned around to leave she found Mahel staring at her curiously. She almost snapped his head off for that look, but reined her temper in just in time. No need to vent her frustration on innocents. But she could sense her lover's eyes lingering on her back, and she knew he would lecture her about the dangers of an uncontrolled temper again tonight. Suppressing a sigh, Luzaya left.

The next day Franzis for once decided to follow his wife's instructions without protest and remained in bed. Through the open door of the bedroom he watched Yana dress, assisted by her handmaidens, and approved of her somewhat martial outfit with a weary nod. Instead of the heavy dresses she usually preferred, she now wore light black armor over a black bodysuit. Her amphistaff had changed its color accordingly, fading against the black background. To a fleeting glance it could pass as a shoulder decoration of sorts. While her handmaidens were still busy putting up her hair, she was gazing at Franzis thoughtfully. 

"Who is taking over business until you are sufficiently recovered?" she asked.

"Jiliha n'Averone," he replied smoothly, but her pale blue eyes started flashing nevertheless.

"That wench? No doubt she is a good politician and administrator, but far too vain for my taste."

Franzis risked a grin. Yana was jealous of Jiliha, not only because the councillor spent almost more time with Franzis than his wife did, but also because Jiliha was undoubtedly the most beautiful female on the Imperial Advisory Council. Noticing his expression, Yana tugged on her black gloves with a bit more force than strictly necessary. She cocked her eyebrows meaningfully.

"Take care that she does not stab you in the back while you are incapacitated," she admonished him lightly.

"Would she gain your approval?" he asked back.

"Never." Her face was dead-pan. "I got to go. Sleep and rest, love. I will ask the medics to check on you at noon."

He sat up hopefully, fighting down a dizzy spell. "What if I get bored?"

"Don't be childish," she retorted with a loving smile.

"You know, you could check on me too, at noon. That might do wonders for my recovery," he added with a wink. Yana laughed, then shook her head. 

"Ah, regretfully I will have to meet Naas Deron for lunch."

He pursed his lips in an unpractised pout. "A pity. Perhaps I will ask Jiliha to keep me company then."

"Tease," she accused him. "I mean it," she continued, totally earnest again. "If the medics are not satisfied with your condition at noon I will have you sedated so you will truly rest."

"I will do as you command, Empress," he lied, straight-faced. Yana merely shook her head again, then turned around to leave, not without a few last instructions whispered at her handmaidens. Then the door closed, and Franzis waited ten seconds before he rang for the serving staff. The handmaiden who stuck her head in frowned at him.

"Your Highness, what can I do for you?"

"Please bring my compad and datapad. I have work to do."

"But, Your Highness, Her Majesty left explicit orders – "

"Another word and you will get an explicit notice terminating your service with this household. Clear?"

"Perfectly clear, sir, yes," she said between gritted teeth, and even managed a curtsy before she left again. 

Franzis shook his head. It was so hard to get good personnel today. Even though he shared Yana's view of Jiliha's skills as administrator, he would be damned if he left the Advisory Council unobserved. Who knew what ideas they might get into their heads while he was recovering?

But his thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again. Preparing to deliver a lashing comment, Franzis swallowed his words when he saw who it was, and his features lit up with joy. "Luzaya!"

She gave him an apologetic smile, then conducted a fierce whispered conversation with someone standing outside – either Mahel or the handmaidens, Franzis guessed – then slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. 

"Father," she whispered, then walked closer and took a seat at the edge of the bed. 

"Your mother did not send you to make sure I am behaving, did she?"

She laughed out loud. "No, of course not. Though I am certain her handmaidens would just love having me tell her that you want to work, despite your poor health."

Franzis folded his hands on the sheet covering him and nodded. "What can I do for you? Do you need advice for something?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "I want to know what exactly is going on."

"I am not sure I understand."

Leaning toward him, Luzaya tried her best smile. "Father, I am not an impressionable child any more. Mother assigns a bodyguard to protect me, which I can even understand after what happened to you, but I know for certain that it was Deron who chose him in the first place. There is more behind this than just some scheme that was doomed from the very beginning. Please," she asked sweetly.

  
"All right," he breathed, bracing himself. "This will not be nice."

Naas Deron had seen Andarack off just as he received a summons from the Empress. Staring at the message pensively, the Cor'dan stood silent for a while, letting his thoughts drift. He had not wanted Luzaya to learn just yet, who her protector was. There was a chance that the princess would lose what little trust she might have had in Mahel now. It would have been more desirable to have the two of them get to form a deeper relationship first, before revealing the Yuuzhan Vong warrior's origins. Well, no matter. He could not turn back time, unfortunately. What would the Empress want? Probably information on what was going on. He could not tell her everything, he knew. That was one of the setbacks of being Cor'dan. Having to stand back and let destiny run its course. Yet, was he seeing clearly in this? Was he considering everything? Somehow he felt uncertain of that. As if the net his enemies had thrown around him was tightening further, unstoppably, no matter what he did to tear it apart. 

Well, all he had to do was to prevent anyone else from becoming tangled in that web along with him. Which was why Luzaya had to leave. 

At last, Naas Deron decided to follow the summons, but walked over to the sanctuary first. Standing at the threshold, he let his eyes wander over the gloomy chamber. Deliberately slow, he made his way to the altar that stood in the midst of the great hall, whispering under his breath, a whisper that grew in intensity and summoned filigrane tendrils of darkness from the shadows. The altar had been carved from the fallen spire back on Laa'kuan, and when he put his left hand down on its smooth surface, he let the shadows lead him to that distant world. Roj Kell had been able to transcend time and space by travelling the shadows. And though Deron was not that adept yet, he had learned to project his awareness, at least, using a familiar presence as anchor. The presence he sought now was the yammosk on Kynda'bey. The great beast greeted him with its usual overbearing enthusiasm. But Deron did not bother with conversing with the yammosk. He let the telepath bolster his own perception, and soon he found himself suspended above the labyrinthine maze of Laa'kuan. Beneath him, the depiction of the galaxy turned from image to reality, and Deron was again awestruck by the sheer grandeur of life and death, darkness and light. 

The worlds of the Empire were wreathed in shadow, their light dimmed by distrust and suppressed aggression. Compressing his lips into a thin line, Deron found his own heart responding to that darkness, reminding him all too acutely of the bond that connected him to this realm. In a sense, his connection to the Force made him its slave, and even though he enjoyed more freedom than anyone else, he was a prisoner too. The path he had selected for the Empire had not entirely been his own choice. It was part of Roj Kell's legacy, that could not be postponed any longer, and even though Deron shared Anakin Skywalker's confidence, that the Empire would survive the coming crisis, he wondered whether the way to do it was the right one. He was giving his enemies too much leeway, and one result had been Franzis Sarreti's close call with death. Another was, that the responsibility for what was to come would land squarely on the Cor'dan's shoulders. 

In a sense, Deron envied Roj Kell. The old man's realm had encompassed the entire galaxy, and more, and he had not been responsible to anyone but himself. But Naas Deron's authority was restricted to the Empire alone. And his authority was official, though not fully accepted by all factions within the empire. Well. He would change that. Definitely. But first ... Tapping into the yammosk's awareness, Naas Deron sought and found another presence. He could sense his victim's determination and his resolve, and no doubt he would succeed, if Deron allowed it, but that could not happen. Strictly speaking it was an execution for a crime not yet committed, yet Deron had long found that those words were not compatible with the Cor'dan's justice. To him all beings were no more than pawns. He struck without warning, and immediately retreated from the yammosk and Laa'kuan, but the death he had caused still lashed across is mind, adding another scar to his very soul. With a low gasp, the Cor'dan stumbled back from the altar and shook his head to get rid of the eerie sensation of being death itself. 

For a moment he stood very still, brooding. There was a reason why no Cor'dan should remain alone, why no Cor'dan should be overburdened with responsibility. He was both. Deron knew exactly why Alda Magor had chosen a Dark Jedi as her consort. Not only because Lyve Waroon could match her power, but also because his devotion reminded her of her humaneness. And even though another famous Cor'dan, Jamal Irduyn, had never chosen a mate, he had had only a very small clan to contend with. Roj Kell, then, had been an exception. The only assurance the galaxy had had against him had been his knowledge, which had governed the raw force of the Cor'dan. And Belana Jen, who had taught her lover about compassion and forgiveness. Anakin Skywalker had had his family, and enough humility to refrain from abusing his power, which he had done long enough as Darth Sidious' henchman.

Those safeguards Naas Deron did not have. He did not love Luzaya. The woman he had loved had died in the battle for Almashin, and her death had ripped a wound in his heart that had filled up with ice, no matter how hard his friend and mentor Chi'in had tried to prevent that from happening. There were dangers in having no emotional anchor and an entire empire to deal with, and that had been his reason to request assurances from the Council of Naboo. 

Sometimes he still wondered why Anakin Skywalker had chosen him to be his successor. He did not feel competent of wise enough at all. Naas Deron was a warrior, had been trained to be a warrior, and his brief service as ambassador to the Chiss on Almashin had not polished that martial training at all, as the battle for Almashin had shown. And yet, he was Cor'dan, and he had to make the right choices and pay the price.

"Where to begin?" Father sighed, wringing his hands in silent anguish. He wanted to spare her what he was going to say, she realized, but Luzaya was prepared. Or so she thought. "Even though we have enjoyed a period of peace ever since the foundation of the new empire and the Council of Naboo, prejudices prevail, in the New Republic as well as inside the Empire."

She frowned at that. "But we are allied with the New Republic, are we not?"

"No, we are not. We are allied with the Chiss Empire and the Star People. That is all." Luzaya digested this, suddenly aware that her friendship to Jacen and Jaina Solo, to their parents and friends, was actually more special than she had though. Father's lips compressed into a tight line. Then he began anew. "Many people remember the old empire and some remember the Yuuzhan Vong and their brutal antics. Those people believe that the Empire is corrupt and violent itself, that it is a threat to the galactic community. What business ties we have extend through the Confederate Zone, which is a neutral trade nation. We retain good relations to the Council of Naboo, yes, but even though the Council runs a lot of schemes and sees to it that order and peace prevail, many worlds remember Palpatine's rule and are suspicious of your mother's politics. You must understand that they believe she has pardoned a savage people and welcomed them into the galactic community without consulting anyone else, which, in fact, she did."

"But where would they have gone if she had refused them? They would have been slaughtered in a bloody war!" Luzaya exclaimed, shocked. 

Her father's features turned blank. "Most probably, yes. And many politicians, even here, still believe that would have been the easier choice. They may be right, but we will never know, and, personally, I do not want to even think about any such thing. On the other hand, the older Yuuzhan Vong are used to a stronger hand in government, but your mother tries to combine monarchy and democracy in one. You would not believe how many conservative Yuuzhan Vong still call the citizens outside the empire infidels, and scorn their fellow citizens that are not Yuuzhan Vong. Integrating them into the empire will take a very long time. And meanwhile many factions will seek to change the future government."

"I am not sure I understand," she confessed, biting her lower lip. And here she had thought she had learned a bit more of life during her two years as Naas Deron's apprentice. But he had obviously shielded her from the truth just the same as her parents had done. "You mean to tell me that no one is really satisfied with the way things are, yes?"

"Yes. In a broad sense."

"Then the New Republic distrusts us and the Chiss do not really care?" 

Father shrugged. "Bluntly put, Luzaya, the Empire faces a lot of hostile feelings and prejudices. Many people are all too quick to blame your mother. Most, though, do not care for as long as they are left alone and get what they want, most of the time, at least. Anakin Skywalker and Naas Deron have both been working toward molding old Yuuzhan Vong and Sith traditions into something new, but it will take a generation or two until those efforts take effect. Meanwhile there will be a growing gap between young and old, traditionalists and liberals. And the greatest problem with that is that the rest of the empire does not even understand what the debate is about. As far as battles go, this one is far from over."

Luzaya blinked her eyes once or twice, just a little bit shocked at her own ignorance. She had grown up pampered and protected, never realizing the depth of politics at the Imperial Court. Suddenly she felt angry at both her parents and her mentor, but then she revised that thought again. Her parents had to be forgiven, they had only sought to keep their only child from any harm, but Naas Deron – had he deliberately kept her in the dark? 

"How does Mother see the situation?" she asked at last, very quietly.

"She is angry. Very angry. And tired, I think. She is an idealist at heart, and she hates to see that the galaxy is not the tolerant haven she hoped to build after war's end." Father grimaced ever so slightly. "I remember I once told her that it was better to wait for years to have the power one needs to rule than to die within a week. I wish I hadn't made such an accurate prediction."

  
"I doubt she'll hold you responsible for internal strife," Luzaya reasoned with a smile, but Father's face remained earnest. 

"As head administrator it is my duty to achieve at least a balance between the factions. But that balance is very precarious right now. Especially now." 

Only belatedly did she realize how sick he looked all of a sudden. "Father?" He gasped for air and she gripped his hand, calling for the handmaidens waiting in the outer room. They were with her instantly, Mahel in tow. "We need a medic!" Luzaya exclaimed, on the verge of turning hysteric.

"Your Highness, please calm down," one of the women murmured soothingly and gently urged the princess to rise and make room. 

A moment later two medics appeared. They must have arrived even while she had been talking with Father, Luzaya realized. With tears in her eyes, she let Mahel lead her away. Yet when she left her parents' chambers Luzaya felt as if waking from a daze. 

"He will recover," Mahel told her with quiet confidence, but she waved him into silence.

Her head whipped around as she fixed him in an icy glare. "I will find out who was behind this attack," she declared, "and I just know who I will ask."

Mahel kept pace with Luzaya Dan, keeping as wary an eye on his charge as on the shadows and hallways they crossed on their way to wherever the princess sought to find her answers. He had no idea what the royal consort had told his daughter, but it seemed to have shaken her and had woken an iron determination he had not seen on her face before. Gone was the angry pout, the calculated smiles, and what was revealed underneath resembled her mother more and more. And yet, while Luzaya was filled with a desire to avenge her father, Mahel found that he had felled his own fury with brute force, keeping it locked inside him, as the Cor'dan had told him to. He had not felt that fury in years, but his unfortunate encounter with the warrior who had slain his father had rekindled it again. 

Mahel had not met Andarack clan Rim'kai before, and he had feared to ever meet him, uncertain whether he would be courageous enough to refrain from foolish violence. He understood the honor the victory at Almashin had given the short alien, of course, and yet he still felt the pull of ancient custom that should have pitted him against the Noghri in a battle to the death. It had not been a fair fight that had seen his father dead, and it would not have been a fair fight had Mahel challenged the Sith Lord to a duel. Still, it was not that reason that had made him bow to the Cor'dan's order. He had learned to be patient, to not let himself be ruled by the same destructive force that guided his elders. When he had chosen to become the Cor'dan's follower he had also decided to embrace the new beginning the Empress had promised, to leave everything behind. 

He had not wanted to dishonor his father's memory, and yet he had, in the eyes of many who knew him. His siblings would not speak to him, and he was an outcast among his own caste. Only here, on Byss, where the Empress' rule overshadowed everything else, had he had a chance to remain a warrior and still serve a new order. 

"Is that why he assigned you to me?" Luzaya Dan asked suddenly, and Mahel, who had stopped when she had, his body completely in sync with hers, gazed sharply down at her.

"Your Highness, what do you mean?"

"He knew that you would understand me better, having lost your own father, and would seek to protect me from suffering the same way you did."

"You know nothing of suffering or pain," Mahel snapped, regretting his words instantly. 

But Luzaya Dan's pale blue eyes were pits of cold calculation and all too knowing. "So you do have a temper. I almost would have believed you had tried to erase all traces of your heritage, but I can see that none of use can really escape our past. Is that not so?" He nodded mutely. "I believe I can see it now, more clearly. He chose you because of who you are, and what your betrayal means to your elders."

"I have betrayed no one and nothing," the Yuuzhan Vong replied fervently. "I made my own choices."  


"Politics," she admonished him, then gave a soft groan. "I wish I had a sounder understanding of it." Her sharp eyes turned on him abruptly. "Come. I need to talk to the Cor'dan again."

  


Yana gave Naas Deron a cold look as he took a seat opposite from her, his expression and emotions unreadable. He gave the dining room a once-over – an old habit, she knew – then nodded toward her with a polite smile. 

"I did not know this would be such a formal occasion," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I had rather expected you to confront me with one of your infamous rants. But instead you invite me for lunch. That is so – civilized."

"And I am uncivilized?" she relied curtly, placing a napkin on her lap carefully, before she snapped her fingers to signal the servants to begin serving the dishes.

"No one would be affronted if you acted a bit more emotional. Least of all myself," he said soothingly.

Yana caught his eye, frowning. She had an idea what he was getting at, and she did not like it one bit. "So you would like me to act uncivilized," she stated. "I see. I never deliver on expectations, you should know that."

"Perhaps you should, for once."

"Why?"

"Because now it will serve to confuse the enemy. Later on, an unexpected emotional outburst will only confuse _you_."

The Empress' head came up sharply, startling the servant who had just bent down to fill her plate with a ladle of soup. "You should remember who you are, and who I am. You are a guide, a guardian. You are not a leader. And certainly no teacher." Tearing off a piece of bread from the small loaf set beside her plate, Yana dunked it into the soup slowly, and he watched her just as intently. "The Cor'dan is above the Empress' law, yes. But your responsibility is to the people, just as mine. Speak clearly, Naas Deron, and spare your riddles for your enemies."

He nodded. "If I may?" A mere glance from his dark brown eyes, directed at the row of servants waiting their turn, dispersed them and sent them running from the room. Then those eyes turned on her, as hard as polished stone. Yet Yana refused to be intimidated. But his words still chilled her heart. "You are Empress, Yana Dar, but know this: your responsibility toward the people forbids you to needlessly risk your throne. This attack on your consort was no random act. There is a plan behind this. It could cost your life, and your people's freedom."

"Then what do you advise me to do?" she asked, her voice shaking somewhat.

He leaned back in his seat again. "You have been lenient in the past, allowing envious and ambitious people to fill your palace. They know the proceedings of the court, and they are aware of your weaknesses. Your mercy, forgive me for saying so, may have been of great publicity value, but in the long run it might doom you. Lord Kell told you that you must be hard on your councillors and warriors. Yet not only wartimes require ruthlessness."

"Franzis Sarreti is anything but merciful. He knows exactly who to punish, and how," she countered.

"But it is you that people look to."

Yana's face darkened. "I will not let you talk me into employing my father's methods. Not you of all people."

"On the contrary." His smile was shocking. "But very soon the galaxy will be looking at the empire very closely. You have to decide what you want to show them. You know what they are seeing right now, and you know what they will be seeing if you get your way and that conspiracy is uncovered."

"You suggest I remain passive?"

"I suggest you deal with this quietly and quickly. If you can. Even though I fear it is already too late."

She leaned toward him, her eyes narrowing. "Naas Deron, I ask you directly. Do you know who has ordered my husband's assassination?"

"I would not want to risk the empire on my word, were I you," he replied in a low voice and Yana felt her skin crawl. "But this I tell you: Your enemies are within and without your realm, and the only ones who can uncover the conspirators outside of the empire are the Council's hunters. Andarack will speak to them."

"Elu Cha is ignorant of such a conspiracy," Yana told him quietly. "The deception sect was the first place I looked."

"The fact that he does not know does not mean that his sect is not involved. But he will do everything he can to find out, I can assure you. He is honorable."

"Which makes him a target for those traitors?" she asked pointedly. 

"Yes. Just as you and I make excellent targets."

Deron raised his brows meaningfully, leaving the Empress to think this through. She averted her gaze to look toward the viewport, then rose from her seat to walk over and look out over the city. Her shoulders heaved in a soundless sigh, before she spoke:

"Luzaya is too innocent to witness this, and if the worst happens, I do not want her to be here. You must send her away."

  
"You will have to do that," he answered and rose to join her at the window. 

He refrained from telling her that the princess would undoubtedly be put off by her mother's cruelty, if push came to shove. She would be appalled, and she would break Yana's heart by rejecting her. But if she stayed, Yana would be more vulnerable than she was even now. So he had to decide what would be best for both, and best, he knew, would be for him to shoulder all responsibility. As if she had read his thoughts Yana Dar turned her head to gaze at him openly. He was aware of her Force-sensivity, of course, and of her heritage, but he had thought he had shielded his own emotions better than that. That he had not, she proved by saying: 

"Your responsibility weighs heavier than mine, Cor'dan. I cannot excempt you from what you named my duty, and I shall follow Lord Kell's advice for now." A look of pain crossed her brilliant blue eyes and to his surpise she ran the back of her hand over his cheek in a motherly gesture. "Why did she choose that path?" she asked, voice breaking. "It is inhuman, full of sacrifices. I wanted her to have it better than I did. I do not want her to have to fight all the way."

Naas Deron gently took her hand and retreated a step. She noticed it with sadness in her eyes. But he did not want to be reminded of what he had given up when he had chosen his own destiny, to follow the legacy of such men as Roj Kell and Anakin Skywalker. "No sacrifice is worth more than what is gained by it," he answered hoarsely.

"As any mother will know," she whispered, and smiled. "Do you miss Puket sometimes?"

Of all things, he had not expected this. His face hardened instantly. "That is past, Empress. I am still fond of her, and hold her memory close, but that is all."

"And what is it that you feel for my daughter? Fondness? Or even love?" 

How to answer that question without hurting her pride? He stiffened some more, resolving to be honest with her. "Luzaya is very important to the survival of the Empire. That I do value in her. Anything else is her choice alone." Including her decision to become his lover. He did not want Yana to think he had seduced her little girl, but she seemed to know that already.

Cocking one eyebrow she said: "She does make her own choices, yes, but she is still under the impression that others will clean up after her messes. I hope you are teaching her differently."  


"I try."

"And why Mahel Sivaraya? Because he embodies the new generation?" she inquired further. 

"He is Marayl Carr's son."

Inhaling sharply, she turned away. For a long moment she kept silent, and he could sense her anger reawakening revulsion and hatred as she thought of her old nemesis. But then her fury focused in a single flame that burned with frightening intensity. "His son," she breathed. "I had thought that Domain Carr had chosen a self-imposed exile far from Byss to shame me. You are taking great risks, Naas Deron. And I am not sure I want to stand between you and your enemies when they decide to punish you for your blasphemy."

He laughed out loud. "Empress! You should hear yourself talk! Blasphemy? Is it not the very essence of forgiveness to entrust your daughter's life into the hands of your enemy's offspring? And would it not be the most devious of betrayals if he were to cause her injury? That is the goal of this conspiracy. And if you are unprepared for that you will fall."

"I know what you mean," she growled. "But no matter how honest you know Mahel to be, he will be facing severe reprimands from his elders, his family even. From myself, perhaps. Will his honesty stand against that?"

"You forget one thing," Deron told her calmly. "I have seen his future. Believe me, I would not have done what I did had things been different."

She gazed at him again, her expression one of hurt and regret. "I wish I could trust you, Naas Deron. But I know what you are, what you were. If my daughter is harmed because of you, you will pay dearly, and I will see to it that the Cor'dan perish forever. Do you understand?"

"I do," he replied calmly, and nodded. 

TBC

Hehe, the secret of posting so much so fast is having written over fifty pages in advance.


	5. Choices

"Oh, Princess!"

Luzaya's head snapped around and she frowned at the woman who had appeared from one og the crossing hallways. Mahel, she found, had slipped back into the shadows, and the newcomer probably had never ever seen him. Jiliha n'Averone was a short woman, much shorter than Luzaya, who had inherited her mother's build. The princess did not know the other woman well. All she knew was that Jiliha was on the Imperial Advisory Council, and that Father considered her a good administrator. With thick, wavy brown hair and dark green eyes, Jiliha was a beautiful woman, and her looks always managed to stir envy in Luzaya's heart. Nodding at the councillor, Luzaya tried a smile.

"Councillor n'Averone, if you thought to pay a visit to Father you should know that he is not well and needs rest."

  
Jiliha frowned. "I had hoped that he would recover faster. I trust his injuries are not too bad?"

"Poison, no injuries," Luzaya corrected her sharply. 

The woman could not possibly have missed the cause of Father's illness! She was too good for that, presumably. It was only then that Luzaya realized that Jiliha might know more than she did. Had there been another foiled attempt on her father's life, one which her parents had kept secret? Luzaya paled considerably. 

"Princess, are you well?" Jiliha asked concernedly.

Luzaya gave a hurried nod. "Yes, yes. But you should leave," she added quietly. To her surprise the other woman gave a gay laugh.

"Your Highness, you need not fear anything from _me_. You should know that your father and I are friends."

"Nevertheless, you should leave now. Or you will be made to leave," Luzaya retorted haughtily. 

Out of nowhere Mahel appeared, his tall, armored form towering behind Jiliha n'Averone. The councillor seemed to sense his presence and turned to face him. With a strangled gasp she backed away, then threw a startled glance at Luzaya. Suddenly her features eased again, so quickly that Luzaya wondered whether she had seen fear on them at all. 

"I will go," Jiliha explained and nodded at Luzaya: "I wish your father all the best. The administration misses him dearly."

"I bet it does," Luzaya whispered at Jiliha's retreating back. Then she looked over at Mahel, who had not moved from his position. "I really need to talk to Deron," she breathed. "But first ..." Trailing off, she hastened toward the threshold of the West wing, where she found a contingent of regular troops and three Royal Guardsmen standing watch. They gave her repective bows, but Luzaya barely noticed.

"Captain," she addressed their leader, "has a similar guard been posted at the other entrances?"

"Yes, of course, Your Highness," he answered calmly, his voice filtered through his helmet.

She nodded. "Please leave the regular troops here and take up position in front of my parents' private chambers. Do not let anyone enter save members of the family and the Royal Handmaidens."

"As you wish, Princess," he replied, refraining from inquiring for the reason for her request. 

"Thank you. Mahel, come. We need to find out what is going on here," she ordered. Together, they stormed down the hallway.

"Luzaya Dan!" She stopped short upon hearing her mother's voice and stared at Yana, who had just stepped out into the hallway in front of her, blue eyes blazing. "Get in, both of you," the Empress snarled, and grabbed her daughter's arm to start dragging her into one of the guest dining rooms. 

Dumb-founded, Luzay followed without protest, only to find Naas Deron standing by the window, arms crossed bhind his back, watching her intently. Mahel quietly closed the door behind them, then took up position there. Gently, Luzaya twisted out of her mother's grasp and took a step back. "What is going on? " she asked, frowning. 

"That was my line, child," Yana replied coldly. "What gave you the right to give orders to the Royal Guard? Captain Stieg just called me to have those confirmed. Are you out of your mind?"

Luzaya swallowed slowly, embarrassed. Then she dropped her gaze demurely to stare at her slippers, that were peeking out from underneath the hem of her skirt. "I am sorry," she offered. "But Jiliha n'Averone hinted that there had been another attempt on Father's life. She mentioned something of injuries –" She was cut off by her mother, who sharply held up a hand and whirled to face Naas Deron.

"What do you know about that?" she asked in frosty tones. 

At that moment the princess felt her mind go blank. He had known? Had he also anticipated Father's being poisoned? If he had, why had he not prevented it? Feeling very weak all of a sudden, his betrayal slamming into her heart with unstoppable force, Luzaya almost fell. But Mahel was with her in an instant, steadying her discreetly. Luzaya did not find the strength to thank him, as she was still waiting for the Cor'dan's answer, along with her mother. Naas Deron, his powerful body unfolding as he spread his arms in an appeasing gesture, seemed unpertubed by the attention he was getting. 

"What I know, Empress, is mine alone to know. No harm was done."

"My husband was poisoned," Mother retorted, a cutting edge to her voice. "I must assume that you also knew this would happen, and decided that it _had_ to happen."

  
"I do not need to justify myself to you for anything I do," Naas Deron replied calmly. 

But Mother was unimpressed. "Who?"

"You would find out anyway," he shrugged. "His name was Raval Domain Carr." 

As one, mother and daughter turned to look at Mahel Sivaraya. Luzaya could not help but notice the pain in his black eyes.

"He was my brother," the young warrior whispered, dropping his gaze in shame. 

Mother drew herself up straighter, an expression on her face that made Luzaya wince. "By law the entire domain pays for the transgressions of one of their own," she declared coldly. 

In response, Mahel dropped to his knees in a gesture of surrender. "I know, Your Majesty. I will be the first to pay."

"Fool!" Luzaya started at Naas Deron's sharp tone. Storming past empress and princess, the Cor'dan slapped the young Yuuzhan Vong warrior across the face hard. Mahel stared up at him in bewilderment, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Deron cut him off brutally. "Silence! Are you that dim or simply that arrogant?"

"I – "

  
With a low snort Mother caught both males' attention. "You spoke the truth, Cor'dan, when you claimed that he is honest." Addressing Mahel directly she added: "You understand, that your obvious loyalty to your domain makes it hard for me to still trust you now. We will find a replacement for you, I am certain," she explained. "As for your paying for your brother's evil intentions, I am quite certain that your domain would rather renounce than accept that contribution. You are an outcast. You should realize that at last. And still," she continued very quietly, catching Naas Deron's gaze, "nothing is proven yet."

Mahel thought his heart might stop in shame and horror. The Empress' summary of his situation had been quite accurate, and it was embarassing for him to have disappointed her trust like that. He thought of Raval, and how he had scorned his younger brother for choosing against tradition by becoming the Cor'dan's follower. And still Mahel had been ready to die for Raval's crime. If he had understood correctly, his brother had planned to kill the royal consort after all. That was neither honorable nor tolerable, not for a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Mahel thought of what Luzaya Dan had said, that they both could not escape their pasts. He still thought like a Yuuzhan Vong warrior, and he still felt compelled to oblige to his domain's rules, in a sense. 

But what had shocked him even more had been the Empress' announcement that she would not honor the Cor'dan's words. The Cor'dan was above the law, and what he said was to be taken seriously. Naas Deron had practically told them that Raval had planned to kill Franzis Sarreti, and Mahel did not doubt his words one minute. Only belatedly did the young warrior realize that the Empress was giving Mahel an excuse to survive. Not only was she dismissing him from his post as Luzaya Dan's bodyguard, she also chose to ignore his foolish reaction to his brother's affront. But she did not trust him anymore. Looking up tentatively, he met Luzaya Dan's pale blue eyes. The princess' features were unreadable, and he could not miss the similarities she shared with her mother then. Did she also share her mother's view on Mahel's lack of trustworthiness? 

Heart breaking, he thought that she probably did. 

"You may leave us, Mahel Sivaraya," the Cor'dan told him coolly, and he staggered upright, his usual grace weighed down by grief. Turning away, he left.

In a daze, he walked down the hallway, numb to his surroundings. He had been waiting for this chance for so long, and he had been fool enough to lose it again. Wistfully, he thought of Luzaya Dan's beautiful face, the first tentative beginnings of a friendship, perhaps, when they had talked like equals. She shared his secret now, but he had nothing of her in return. Suppressing a sigh, Mahel resolved to not let thise become a setback. He was a warrior, and perhaps he should strat thinking like one. To accept an assignment only becasue of a pretty face was foolish, to denounce loyalty was childish, and to run from the past was cowardly. Raval had been subject of the Empire, just as he was, and the law applied to both of them. Perhaps the Cor'dan could advise him on his future course of action, Mahel mused, as he left the palace and stepped into the Royal Promenade.

The young warrior turned into a pathway to the left that would lead him into the northern part pf the capital, where he had his lodgings with a human landlord who did not mind housing a Yuuzhan Vong. Cordell Tryway had cheered the Empress from the very beginning, and he had been one of the first who had come to Byss after it had been reconquered from the Yuuzhan Vong to show his support for Yana Dar. A loyalist, he accepted Mahel's devotion to the Empire, and had alos contributed to it, the young alien tought ruefully. Shame flooded his mind when he realized that he had not even told Cordell that he had been named Luzaya Dan's bodyguard, and that he could not tell him even now, now that he had been fired after just a day of service. It was too shameful. Hanging his head, Mahel was surprised to suddenly find his way blocked by four Yuuzhan Vong. 

"Halt," one of them, shorted than Mahel, called out. 

The warrior gazed at them suspiciously. They were not warriors, that he could see, but civilians. "What do you want?"

"To show you something," the speaker replied, waving him on. 

Mahel followed cautiously, but he was confident that he would be able to defeat them, should they plan to attack. They led him into a backyard and into one of the cheap buildings that had been erected to house the many thousand citizens that had come to Byss to seek a new future. In one of the small flats that rented out for a small amount of Imperial currency and would have been Mahel's chocie had he not found a place with Cordell, they assembled in a solemn circle around a shrouded body lying on the floor like trash. Mahel felt his skin pucker with dread anticipation. The four, who had remained nameless, gazed at him expectantly, and in the end Mahel let his amphistaff uncurl to push the shroud away from the body's face. 

Raval. 

Looking down at his brother's features, Mahel felt overcome by fury. His weapon slashed through the air brutally, and came to rest at the speaker's throat. "Where did you find him?" he asked harshly. 

The other Yuuzhan Vong met his stare calmly. "He was one of us, Mahel Sivaraya," he declared, and Mahel almost snarled that Raval had been a warrior, no common thug. But then he realized what the other was really telling him.

Ordering the amphistaff to curl around the bracer he wore around his forearm, Mahel straightened haughtily. "I will not let you dishonor my brother's memory," he told them.

The speaker merely smiled. "Honor? What do you know about honor? You are a traitor to our race, our people. You dishonor Raval Domain Carr by still breathing."

"You want to die, perhaps?"

"No," the Yuuzhan Vong said. "We want you to finally realize that you must join us. Those infidels are weak and blasphemous, and you have joined them in your grief over your father's death. We understand that. But it is time to wake up and take back what is ours."  


Mahel took a step back, clearing the way to the door. "Go," he said. "Go now or I will kill you all for treason."

The speaker gave him a contemptuous look. "You are the traitor, Lomin Domain Carr."

"I know what I believe in, Nameless One," the young warrior snapped back. "I believe in the Empress' Order, and in the future. But perhaps you do not understand the past as well as I do," he added viciously. With a flick of his hand he took the speaker's head off, his amphistaff slicing through the male's unprotected neck as if it weren't there at all. His black eyes cold and hard, Mahel felt his heart fill with righteous anger. "I have made my choices," he snarled. "And your only choice now is to leave." 

The remaining three Yuuzhan Vong shot him venomous glares, but one after the other they filed through the open doorway, leaving Mahel alone with his brother. Taking a step toward the body, Mahel again used his amphistaff to flick the shroud back over Raval's face. 

"You are unworthy of my grief, Raval Domain Carr," he whispered. "You are the traitor, not I. You dishonor our father's memory by resorting to cowardly deeds, conspiring with traitors and denouncing peace. You do not realize what such actions will spawn. You have no idea."

Slapping the amphistaff against the bracer abruptly, Mahel turned away, leaving the body like so much trash. He had learned from his father's mistakes. And if there was one thing he had realized, it was that to oppose justice was a direct road to annihilation. Mahel knew exactly what had happened on Laa'kuan, when Warmaster Marayl Carr had executed the Cor'dan, and he also knew why Anakin Skywalker had allowed Andarack clan Rim'kai to slay Marayl Carr. He had refused the warmaster the honor of falling at the Cor'dan's hands. Raval had not deserved to die in battle, and so he had died like a coward. It was the justice of the Cor'dan. The unbelievers could not see it, but Mahel did believe, and he was neither as ignorant as Naas Deron thought, nor as naive as his brother might have believed. Yana Dar had described the essence of what he was perfectly. Honest. And loyal. 

The Empress might have relieved him of his duties, but _he_ had not released himself from the promise he had given the Cor'dan. For as long as it was necessary he would protect the princess, no matter what.

With Mahel gone, Yana felt herself calm down somewhat. Still facing Naas Deron, who had taken position at the window again, she ignored her daughter, who slowly made her way over to seat herself at the table. It was not betrayal that the Empress felt, she had dealt with enough politicians in her life-time, but what the Cor'dan was doing appalled her. He made no effort in tempering his methods, moving across the political arena with a butcher's grace. True, he had always been a warrior, but then, the same was true of Anakin Skywalker. Yet the former Dark Lord had acted with more subtelty and more insight, had let diplomacy prevail. Subtlety, though, was no concept that Naas Deron embraced, no matter how clever he thought himself to be. 

"Tell me," the Empress began softly, "why do you risk a full-scale civil war without even considering to consult me first? _Am_ I ruler of this empire, or have you suddenly decided that I am unfit for that post?"

Deron blinked at her, his hard, dark eyes for once strangely surprised. "It was the logical step to take, Your Majesty."

  
"Really," she countered, her voice icy cold. "How so? You told me you did not doubt Mahel Sivaraya's loyalty, yet now you have forced me to question it, and have forced him to choose between his domain and his loyalty to the Empire. The other thing you warned me about – " Here she threw a warning glance at Luzaya, who seemed lost in thought, "might also be accelerated by my dismissing him."

Pushing himself away from the window sill Deron shook his head. "No. I tell you again, Empress, that you can rely on him fully. I have seen it. As for my supposedly having misconducted this affair, please note that I do know who is behind this conspiracy, and it is not Domain Carr."

"What!" Yana stood, quivering with outrage, her cheeks heatening, her blue eyes ablaze. An

accusing finger was pointed at the Cor'dan. "You dare!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and her anger rebounded from his calm posture, slamming back into her with brute force. She took a staggering step back, shoulders slumping, then rallied herself again. "Why?" was all she asked.

"In the words of Lord Kell, Your Majesty, I do not fight other people's wars for them. I know what I know, and I do what I can to protect you, but, ultimately, the task to uncover this conspiracy and solve the problem you face is yours. As you already mentioned, _you_ are Empress, not I."

There was a flash of revelation, and Yana cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing somewhat. "Can you tell me why I need you, then?"

"You don't. Neither do I need you. For other reasons than deception, that is," he added with a crooked smile, prompting Yana to nod in satisfaction.

"I thought so. Then I will not hesitate to throw my enemies at you, if you are doing the same with me. One way or the other, I suppose they will be crushed between the two of us."

Naas Deron's smile widened into a grin. "You are getting the drift, Your Majesty. Very good. Then I will rely on you to join me in chaos." 

He gave her an elegant bow, then walked past her to leave. She let him go, thoughts racing. Stubborn, foolish man! With a low growl, the Empress turned towrad Luzaya Dan, who was gazing at her out of empty eyes. Yana could sense her daughter's emotions all too well. She felt deceived and used. With a sigh, Yana walked over and ran a hand through Luzaya's thick hair.

"I am sorry, my dear. I did not mean this to happen to you."

"It's not your fault," her daughter replied in a small voice, turning her head away. Yana stood back, feeling torn between wanting to protect her little morning star and leaving her to cope with her pain as an adult. "But I regret my choice now," Luzaya added suddenly.

"To become his apprentice?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. He is so false!" Her voice rose vehemently. "And I do not believe this is the way for the Cor'dan."

"Hm." The Empress pursed her lips thoughtfully. "My little star, there were worse than Naas Deron. You should not try to see the past through their eyes, though, because they are deceiving. You must find your own way and perspective." An idea came to mind. "An offer, if you want it."

Looking up, Luzaya gazed at her hopefully. "What is that?"

"Well, as Deron told me, we have enemies abroad that will be investigated by the Council of Naboo. I want you to join Andarack clan Rim'kai in his voyage to Naboo, and I want you to oversee their investigations." She smiled. "A spy of my own, you see?"

"I do." Luzaya gave her a brave little smile. "And Andarack can protect me too, right?"

"Yes. That too," the Empress replied, beaming, because her daughter was indeed clever.

Luzaya stood suddenly, and gently drew her mother into a warm embrace. "I love you, Mother," she said sincerely. "And I have faith in you. But please, don't do anything stupid."

Yana gave her only child a sardonic smile that echoed her thoughts on the past. If she were any judge, becoming empress in the first place had been the stupidest thing she had ever done. But that could not be changed, and besides, had that decision not given her a wonderful husband and a delightful daughter? Returning Luzaya's hug, Yana closed her eyes in a moment of undeniable bliss. 

"Me, stupid?" she whispered, amused. "Perhaps you should follow that advice yourself." Gently, she held the girl at arm's length. "Luzaya Dan, please try to not let doubts barr your path. Remember what you were named for, and remember that you make your own choices. Always."

"I will, Mother. I will rememer," Luzaya answered, but she sounded sad and lost. 

"Another thing," she sad, suddenly recalling why she had wanted to see her mother in the first place. "Jiliha nA'verone knew that there would be another attempt on Father's life – "

"What?" Mother interrupted her, laughing out loud. "Dear, how could she have known? Especially since Naas Deron killed that creature before he could become an assassin."

Luzaya frowned. "Mother, it is a valid assumption."

"It is not," the Empress replied, her voice hard. "No one except the medics knew that the source of your father's illness was poison. No one knew what had occurred. I assume that Jiliha knew no better than to suspect a different kin dof assassination attempt and made an educated guess." She held up a hand to forestall any protest from Luzaya. "Nevertheless I will keep an eye on her. You should know, though, that your father trusts her, and it is very hard to earn yoru father's trust," she added sternly, and Luzaya gave a submissive nod. 

Mother was right. Just because Father had been attacked did not mean that anyone at the court was a traitor and not to be trusted. Guiltily, the princess thought of Mahel, who had been sent away just like that. He must be feeling awful. It was obvious that the young warrior admired Naas Deron, and now he had found that the man had killed his brother, had broken the trust Mahel had set in his insight. Luzaya understood that all too well, since she felt much the same. Her hands balled into fists unconsciously, and she gave a start when she sensed mother's fingers running down her arms soothingly.

"Luzaya," she said quietly. "Everything is a matter of perspective. If you try to see things from other people's point of view you will find that bringing them over to your own is taxing, most of the time. It is rare to find someone who shares your views, and if you try to understand you will gain a greater insight into people. Naas Deron did what he believes to be right. You realize, that he does not view people the way you do, don't you?"

"He has no feelings for them," Luzaya breathed. "No feelings for me."

"But do _you_ feel something for him?"

The princess shook her head. "No. You are right. I should treat this as the business matter it is." Abruptly she looked up to meet her mother's gaze. "Would you think me foolish if I still shed a tear or two?" 

"Oh, child," Mother sighed, and quickly embraced her, offering shelter and understanding. 

Luzaya, her lips quivering, felt her resolve crumble. She could see herself, bereft of emotion, cold and rational, drifting through life like a ghost, never truly experiencing life herself, always watching. That prospect scared her more than she cared to admit. She did not want to end like that. She did not want to use people for no other reason than to achieve a future goal. Life was the present. Of course, it did continue into the future, but why make life harder for anyone? Why hurt someone deliberately, and justify it with something so petty as saving the galaxy? Sobbing quietly, she hugged her mother closer, seeking her warmth. 

"It is not the way," she whispered. "There has to be another."

The Empress' accusations had stung, and reminded him again of how new he was to politics, how lost he felt in that maze of deception. But he had to end what he had started. Naas Deron felt his features harden as he stepped into his quarters. Yana Dar had practically told him that he was doing about everything wrong. He had been unable to control Mahel properly, to play on his reactions. Instead he had only managed to drive the young warrior away from the princess again, which was unfortunate. Also unfortunate was the fact that he had had to reveal that he had killed Raval, Mahel's brother. Deron had no idea whether the warrior would forgive him for that. If Mahel joined the conspirators ... No, that he would never do. It was against his nature. 

A faint humming sound caught his attention, and Deron walked cautiously over to the sanctuary, which was plunged in total darkness. The windowless room was sucking the shadows into a black vortex, and without the torches and candles burning it was icy cold in there. And yet the giant hall was filled with prayer. The Cor'dan stood for a while, undecided. It was Mahel, he could sense his presence, but the young Yuuzhan Vong gave no indication that he was aware of the newcomer. So Deron remained standing where he was, keeping silent, waiting until Mahel was finished. When the prayer died away the sound of armor scraping over stone reached his ears. 

"Cor'dan," Mahel said calmly, but did not continue.

"What were you praying for? Your brother?" Deron asked cautiously, but the Yuuzhan Vong gave a contemptuous snort that cut through his heart. 

"Raval Domain Carr was a traitor," the warrior told him sternly. "He deserves no blessing."

Walking closer toward Mahel, who was still hidden by darkness, Deron shook his head. "That is wrong, Mahel. Like any other, his death reverbrates through the Force and needs to be balanced."

"How?"

"Neither by anger, nor by shame, Mahel. Remember him the way you knew him, and honor his memory."

There was a short, but meaningful silence. Then the warrior asked: "Will _you_ honor his death?"

"Yes," Naas Deron breathed. "If you wish it, you may join me in that ritual," he added sincerely.

"I think – I think I would like that," Mahel answered, sounding a bit uncertain, but determination rolled off him in great waves. 

The Cor'dan smiled. "Good." 

At a gesture of his hand the torches sprang to life and the cackling of burning oil filled the temple's sanctuary. Mahel was standing beside the round altar, his posture tense. His black eyes, flat nose, high cheekbones and prominent, hairless brow ridge made his features look much like a human skull in the temple's illumination, and for a moment Deron stood very still. He remembered Mahel's Naming Day, and what he had seen then. Relaxing once more, he smiled.

"Please fetch the incense bowl."

As Mahel hurried to the back of the temple, Naas Deron stepped up to the altar and ran his palms over its surface lovingly. The Heart of Darkness demanded a price from its host, and that price was forgiveness. He could not shrug off a death, regardless to who had caused it. And he had learned that it was better to balance it sooner than later. Mahel, joining him, carefully sat the bowl down on the altar. Filled with a host of herbs, it gave off a faint scent that was soothing in itself. Standing side by side, both the Cor'dan and the warrior kept quiet, breathing in the silence of that moment. 

Naas Deron closed his eyes and knew that Mahel would follow his example. "Life and death are one in my heart. The death of Raval Domain Carr is in my heart. Let death be my heart, let life be my soul." 

He flinched ever so slightly when he could sense the slain warrior's spirit enter his mind, but he surrendered his fear quickly, and let the other's emotions wash over him, as Raval relived his own death, a cry of accusation echoing through the Cor'dan's presence. For what seemed an eternity Raval's emotions ravaged his thoughts, until both were united in the aftermath of death. There were only tranquility and understanding beyond that border. Only that. With a sigh, Deron opened his eyes again and almost smiled when he saw a stranger stand across from him. He wore armor just like Mahel, but contrary to the young warrior he wore it like a second skin, and his bearing was noble, not humble. The tall Yuuzhan Vong warrior was gazing at the Cor'dan knowingly, and Deron found himself compelled to sneak a quick glance at Mahel, who was oblivious to the ghostly presence that had joined them. Eyes still closed, the Yuuzhan Vong was breathing hard, still in the grip of his brother's memory. Then, with a barely perceptible nod, the alien spectre vanished, and Mahel woke from his trance with a gasp. For a moment he was unable to speak. But he recovered quickly. 

"I must beg forgiveness for shaming you so," he whispered to no one in particular. "I am sorry."

"Never forget," the Cor'dan whispered, caught in the thrall of the future past. "Never forget who you are."

Franzis Sarreti was not surprised at his daughter's visit late that night. He had expected her to consult him before leaving the Empire for the first time in her life. Yana was off, stuck in a IAC session Jiliha had called on the administration's response to the attack, and Franzis had been watching the news on the holovid, something he usually did not do, since his sources used different channels. When Luzaya knocked at the door he had guiltily switched the holovid off and had called for her to enter, which she did, looking somehow different. Older. Sad.

"Hi," she said, and gave him a wry smile.

"Hi yourself," he shot back, smiling, as he beckoned her to come closer. "Nervous?"

She nodded once. "I guess so," she ventured, but she sounded uncertain, as she sat down on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. She was dressed in a casual set of pants, shirt and jacket, for easy travelling, in her favorite color, a dark blue that set off her eyes. 

"So, are you looking forward to seeing Naboo?" he continued, hoping to get her out of her reserve.

"I guess." She sighed. "I hate to go now. I feel like I'm deserting the two of you."

Franzis grinned at her. "Your mother and I have been through worse together. Do not worry. We will manage this too."

"I know," Luzaya answered quietly. "Perhaps I am just afraid of leaving. Everything will be new and strange. I feel like I'm ten years old again."

"Keep your eyes and ears open, be polite and careful, and use the connections you have," Franzis found himself telling her, and she turned big eyes on him, before she broke into a smile. 

"Thank you," she said. "Would you tell one of your agents who was sent to Naboo on a mission similar to my own the same?"

He nodded sincerely. "Of course. On the other hand," he added, thoughfully, "any agent of mine would be experienced enough to know about the rest."

  
Her face fell, and he could see that she was hurt. "I know that I don't know everything," she told him defiantly. "That's why I am taking Mother's offer. Because I hope to learn something."  


"Then you believe the Cor'dan is not teaching you enough?" Yana had told him of what Naas Deron had revealed about that conspiracy, and he felt with his wife in the matter. 

  
Luzaya averted her gaze self-consciously and bit her lower lip. "Not enough? I do not know. Perhaps the wrong things?" She lowered her head ever so slightly. "I'm not so sure anymore whether I made the right choice," she confessed, and sounded so sad that Franzis promptly lay a hand on her arm.

"You know, child, that you have but to ask, and I will give you what advise I can give."

Her pale blue eyes sought his pleadingly. "Then you think I am right in leaving?"

"If you are unsure about something, it is best to gain some distance, to seek a new perspective. Perhaps then other aspects of the matter in question are revealed. Try to gain as broad a view as you can. Ask Lord Skywalker, if you think it will help, consult the Seeker, perhaps." He shook his head. "I am not the one to ask about such things, maybe."

She kissed his forehead quickly, then withdrew with a smile. "No, no," she said, "you are right. That is part of my reason to leave. The other," here she leaned toward him conspiratively, "is that I want to bring those traitors down for you."

Franzis arched his brows in mock amazement. "Avenging me? I am honored, Luzaya."

His daughter gave a delightful laugh. "Well, I don't suppose that I can fully shed my heritage, even if I wanted to. And with an ex-Imperial agent and assassin as father, and a sorceress and empress as mother, I guess I have no choice." Her features softened again abruptly. "I admire both of you for your strength and determination. I hope to become just as confident as the two of you. Going abroad will help me in that, I believe."

"I was your age when I began my service to the Emperor," Franzis told her pensively. "I learned a lot. But I never ceased learning." Squeezing her arm gently, he smiled. "Learn what you can on your journey, my little morning star. There is always a place you can come back to. Never forget that."

Her features froze helplessly. "That's what I fear," she whispered, voice choked. "That I will return home only to find you gone."

"Luzaya!" Feeling almost shocked at her worries and at her deep love for her parents, he sat up straighter. But then he grew calm once more and replied: "Child, don't let your fears obscure your vision. We can look out for ourselves. We both love you, always, and that love is stronger than anything else, even death. Never fear to lose us. We are always with you, just as you are always in our hearts. You will see, your mother and Naas Deron will handle this little affair perfectly. Neither of them is stupid." He sighed. "Luzaya, really. You don't need to worry so."

She was unconvinced, her eyes told him that clearly, but she nodded nevertheless. "I know," she said. "Wish me luck."

"I do. And may the Force be with you."

Luzaya grinned. "Andarack is with me, so I should be safe enough." But the worry did not fade from her gaze. 

Luzaya was in a funny mood when she followed Myryane and two of the Royal Handmaidens who were carrying her luggage through the Citadel. She had said her goodbyes to her parents, and even though she knew that they both loved her dearly she somehow had the feeling that they were not as moved about her leaving as she herself was. Their life would go on once she was gone, but what about her? She felt terribly insecure. This was to be the first trip she would make without her family, and though she had known Andarack for a long time he had always remained a stranger, in a sense. It occurred to Luzaya that she had missed out on parts of growing up that only now became important to her. She had no clue about a lot of things. Swallowing her self-pity, she resolved to be open to new things, just as her father had told her, and to grow through this trip. 

Her newfound confidence was shattered instantly, when a dark, menacing shape appeared out of the shadows, and Myryane let out a frightened scream that was loud enough to alert about every guard in the Citadel. Luzaya found herself retreating, suddenly missing Mahel's presence as her silent shadow. The two handmaidens, though, seemed very calm, and when the stranger stepped further into the light the princess relaxed too. It was Mahel. His black eyes reflected the light easily, but his grayish-brown skin melded into the shadows, making his appearance insubstantial, like a dream. He still wore his armor, and Luzaya thought that he probably had not even returned home after his dismissal. Gesturing at the handmaidens and Myryane to soothe them, Luzaya stepped up to the Yuuzhan Vong warrior with a gentle smile. 

"Mahel Sivaraya," she said, "what brings you here this late at night?"

"A promise," he answered hoarsely. "I have vowed to protect you, and that vow I will not break."  


In an instant Luzaya's mind short-circuited. Now that she had finally summoned her courage and accepted the trust her parents had in her maturity, in her ability to watch out for herself, _he_ appeared only to tell her that she needed protection? The insolence! "Why, thank you for your offer, but I won't need your protection," she told him icily and raised her chin in a haughty gesture. But when she pushed past him, deliberately brushing his shoulder with more force than was polite, he caught her arm in a hard grip. 

"You will hear me out," he snarled, and suddenly Luzaya realized that he was anything but tame. Face paling, she tried to break from his grasp, but she might as well have tried to move a mountain. 

"Let go," she hissed, fury taking hold of her again.

But he ignored her. "I made a promise, Princess, and I will keep it. If you deny me to fulfill that promise I will follow you wherever you go, you can count on it."

"No need for such drama," a new voice cut in, all calm confidence, and Luzaya's heart skipped a beat at the grating sound. 

She and Mahel both turned their heads simultaneously to stare at the short alien who had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Andarack clan Rim'kai stood very still, but his stance suggested that this could change in the blink of an eye. He was not menacing, but he was definitely poised for action. To Luzaya's mild shock, Mahel moved protectively in front of her, shielding her against the Noghri. Andarack, though, was unimpressed. Walking around the Yuuzhan Vong, the Sith Lord gave the princess a curt nod. 

"Your Highness, it is your choice. Personally, I would not mind taking Mahel Sivaraya along. He might be useful."

  
Luzaya threw him a grim glance that was redirected at Mahel, and intensified. "This is Deron's doing, isn't it? He sent you to baby-sit me," she accused Mahel, who recoiled, seemingly appalled. 

"Your Highness, my only wish is to protect you," he countered stiffly, the epitome of hurt pride, and Luzaya suddenly felt very guilty. But just as she opened her mouth to apologize Andarack said:

"You are both acting childish. Princess, why care whether he comes along or not? And, Mahel, a warrior distinguishes himself by action. And last but not least, we have to go. We have a schedule to keep."

With that little speech the Noghri reminded them that _he_ was in charge of the mission, and though Luzaya bristled, she took an example in Mahel's routine obedient nod and compressed her lips to a tight line, before she, too, nodded.

"Let's go," she grated out, then turned to resume walking again. 

Follwing at the princess' heels, Mahel kept a tight watch over Andarack clan Rim'kai. The Noghri was certainly confident and had every reason to be confident. But the young Yuuzhan Vong warrior was still enmeshed in doubts and hurt pride, thinking of his brother's betrayal and of the conspirators he himself had let go unpunished. Too much on his mind to focus on his chosen mission. Straightening a bit, he held his head higher, refusing to let those memories weigh him down. He had chosen not to betray the conspirators, and in that he had realized that his loyalties to his people were still strong, that he sought to protect them even more than the Empire's ruling body. At least he did not wish to incriminate them with his testimony. 

A treasonous decision, he knew, but he was not responsible for investigating a conspiracy. He was responsible for protecting the princess, and that he would do. And yet, secretly, Mahel could very well feel the shame over his betrayal burning inside his heart. Guiltily he sneaked another glance at the Sith Lord ahead, but apparently Andarack was not quite as adept as the Cor'dan. The mere thought of Naas Deron finding out about what he had done made Mahel shiver. He envisioned the Cor'dan to take terrible revenge, and unconsciously hunched his shoulders again. When he noticed Luzaya's eyes on him, her head turned to look over her shoulder, he froze in place, even more embarrassed at her having witnessed this show of weakness.

"Anything I should be afraid of?" she asked quietly. 

Mahel swallowed drily. "No, Princess."

"Then you should not be so fearful either," she whispered, and winked at him. 

Confused, the Yuuzhan Vong warrior shook his head, as if to rid himself of a particularly nasty thought, but the smile on her face had been directed at _him_, and that image of her sweet face drove all confusion away very firmly. Perhaps she didn't think him a traitor after all. Mahel felt elated at he took to pacing after her again. She thought him worthy, at least worthy enough to be her protector, and he would never aspire to become anything more, even though he might wish for it. 

But, Mahel told himself, if there was one mate she deserved it surely had to be the Cor'dan. They seemed to fit perfectly together, didn't they? It was a thought he clung to fiercely, because anything else would only depress him further. He loved her, he thought, but she could never love him. 

"Where did you find him?" Naas Deron asked, regarding the corpse lying at his feet dispassionately. 

"A building," Elu Cha answered, and his choice of words and the loathing in his voice told the Cor'dan that he did not mean a Yuuzhan Vong dwelling. "We have not yet determined the cause of his death."

Nodding mutely, Deron turned to face the High Priest fully. "You will find that his heart stopped due to excessive convulsions and stress. Sometimes pain can kill," he added thoughtfully.

The Yuuzhan Vong High Priest gazed down at him with a withering glare. "Then you executed him, Cor'dan?"

"Indeed," Naas Deron told the tall alien, and let a cold smile flash across his face. They were not alone here, and he wanted everyone present to know that he could strike anywhere and at anyone, if he chose to. Elu Cha might be ignorant of traitors within his sect, but Deron knew them to be there. 

"Raval Domain Carr arrived only three days ago from his domain's headquarters on Nirauan," Elu Cha continued. "You believe he came here with a plan? Or that he received orders?"

"Both, I suppose. He came to kill, but he was summoned, and he was told who to kill."

"How do you want to know?" Alyn Cha, the High Priest's daughter, asked suddenly. She stepped up to the two males, turning inquisitive eyes on the Cor'dan. 

Deron shrugged. "It is _your_ job to find out, after all, this _is_ the dception sect. And in this case I would advise you not to wait for a portent by the goddess to prod you into action."

"Don't make fun of our beliefs," Elu Cha admonished the Cor'dan coolly. "We do not ridicule yours either."

"Because you have evidence that mine works," Deron retorted nastily. "Whereas all I see here is a bunch of conspiracy theorists with a liking for torture. All in the name of the great goddess, of course." The change in the atmosphere was almost tangible, but he did not care. They all knew the truth, that their gods had very mortal origins, and they all knew that his own power derived from something more real than fantastic legends. 

Elu Cha, though, found that he needed to defend his daughter and his own sect's reputation. "Cor'dan, your might is certainly undisputed, but there is not so much that sets you apart from what you accuse us to be."

"My auhority is absolute, Your Highness, and your authority derives from the Empress' order," Naas Deron replied a bit haughtily. "You cannot compare one with the other."

"You are heir to the people who were as gods to my race," Elu Cha answered a bit more heatedly. "And you surely are as arrogant and as possessed with tyranny."

"Not that you should have a problem with tyranny. You lived under a tyrant for long enough," Deron pointed out, referring to Shimmra. 

"That does not give you the right to judge us as if we were unwilling to embrace the new order. Many of us welcome this change, others do not. Assimilation has to come gradually."

Deron took a step toward the High Priest and stuck his chin out. That still left him head and shoulders shorter than the Yuuzhan Vong, but that did not bother him at all. "Twenty years, Elu Cha. Twenty years since that new order was proclaimed. And you still fret and mutter and glorify the past." He gestured toward the body of Raval Domain Carr. "These fools risk the Empress' wrath for nothing. What will they gain? Can you tell me?"

"You are Cor'dan," Elu Cha answered drily. "You know everything."

"Ah." Deron smiled. "Of course. But knowledge does not make me omnipotent." 

With a nod he whirled away to leave. Let his enemies wonder about that statement and his comments on the Yuuzhan Vong. As he saw it, he had not many choices in confusing them. He was giving mixed signals, on one hand claiming to know the conspirators, but on the other not doing anything more than scolding Elu Cha for his lack of success. But then, he really did follow Roj Kell in this. _Don't fight other people's wars for them_. The Yuuzhan Vong had to _want_ to bring change about. The problem was making them realize that a return to their old traditions was not an option. Not as long as he was alive. 

Enjoying a quiet moment for once, Yana lay relaxed in her husband's embrace, just letting time run by. Their daughter had left a few hours ago, protected both by Andarack and Mahel Sivaraya, as she had learned. Of the two she would trust neither completely. Andarack clan Rim'kai, even though the most powerful warrior they could spare, had his own agenda, or rather the Council's, that he followed, whereas Mahel was far too inexperienced to be considered to even be in the Noghri's league. And yet it was he who enjoyed the Cor'dan's utmost faith. Which in itself was disturbing. 

Not even after having revealed his knowledge, or rather, after having hinted at it, did Yana understand Naas Deron's motives. He seemed to be caught in his own web, moving by trial and error more than by a plan. It was undisputed that his power served as deterrent for his enemies, but if he kept on like this they would rightly assume that he was not as adept at fabricating sucessful schemes as he was at threats. On the other hand, that could also be a deliberate move on his part, to encourage an image of his ineptness. The Empress frowned. She was making this far too complicated. But what was he after?

"So, what's his game?" Franzis asked suddenly, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin resting next to her neck. "He's sending Luzaya away, for safety reasons, you claim, he knows who is behind this assassination attempt but does nothing to bring the traitors to justice. Personally, I believe he is either indecisive or very clever. I can't decide."

"I can," Yana retorted in a growl. "He is both. And it will doom his scheme as surely as those traitors will try to kill you again."

"Perhaps this time they will try to get you instead," he reasoned quietly.

"No way. They won't let me die a martyr. They will want to try me, paint me a tyrant, sully everything I have ever achieved."

"So what do we do?"

  
Yana closed her eyes, erasing all thought from her mind to achieve calm. "You tell me," she said at last. "You are my chief advisor. And for as long as I still have you I will make use of that."

"Oh. Good. So that's all I mean to you?" he teased, and kissed her neck tenderly. 

She smiled. "Of course not. But we must be realistic."

"On a realistic basis, Your Majesty, I would advise you to make it very clear that you trust the people, all of them, and that you create a common desire to bring those traitors to heel. This is your chance to unite them fully. They adore you, most of them, at least, and they all love Luzaya."

"But she is not here."

"Which is only for the best. I won't have you put her in danger only for political reasons," he added, his low voice menacing. 

His tone surprised her, and she twisted around in his embrace to look at him. "What did you say? You would believe me capable of risking my daughter's life?"

"_I_ would do it." His gray eyes were very cold, and hard as steel as he said it, and the Empress suddenly felt a chill settle over her heart. 

"You would _not_," she stated, still shocked by his admission. 

His gaze softened somewhat when he smiled. "Yana, try to think like your opponents. They have an intimate knowledge of proceedings at the court, and you and Luzaya are about the only ones who know my softer side." He chuckled at that. "To all others in the administration I am a cold-hearted bastard."

"The people like you," she added softly. 

"Because I am your husband, and because I fulfill my representative functions perfectly. They do not know what goes on behind closed doors."

Thsi time Yana nodded in agreement. He was right. By the Force, her husband was right. As always. Lowering her head demurely she cuddled against his chest. "I thought you had taught me all you know of scheming and back-stabbing," she murmured.

"Only the basics," Franzis joked. "_This_ is high art." He ran a hand over her cheek tenderly. "So. Let me explain. By sending her away as emissary to Naboo you make her vulnerable to attack, despite the company she finds herself in. Let us disregard the Council in this at first. Now, what could happen? You could use an attack on Luzaya's life to start a witch-hunt, and that would discredit you in the eyes of the other nations, even though I am certain that some of our non-Yuuzhan Vong residents would also be quick to cheer a harder courser concerning them. To add insult to injury, those traitors could also arrange it so that you would also lash out at other realms, the New Republic, for example."

"What makes you think so?" Yana asked, surprised. 

"Naas Deron's comment about there being enemies within and without. They might have a common goal, but they might also just be using one another. Which means we need to come up with different motives. I suppose Raval Domain Carr's involvement means that the foe within consists of Yuuzhan Vong. They will want to dethrone you to return to the status quo before the conquest of their people. Domain Carr is very conservative in that regard, with the exception of Mahel, it would seem. So, who does that leave on the other side?"

Picking up on his thoughts, the Empress smiled. "We don't need bother with those," she explained. "The Council will deal with them, and they have an advantage over us: the Seeker. They can modify their scheme according to my actions, since they have more freedom of movement and are not as closely guarded as I am."

"_Good_." Franzis' brows shot up in open admiration. "Excellent. But that still does not answer my original question. What in Sith's hell is Naas Deron up to? _And_ the Council."

TBC


	6. Naboo

Al'than'erudo walked down the marble tiled hallway toward the Council Chamber with measured steps. They had restored most of the Royal Palace in Theed, and it was just sufficient to house the Council's different departments and the planet's elected government. After war's end former queen and senator Padmé Naberrie had put out a call for all Nubians and Alderaani scattered throughout the galaxy to come to Naboo and live there in peace under the Council's direct protection. Supported by her daughter, adopted princess of Alderaan, she had gained great feedback, and over the years the population had grown enough to populate Theed and a few other cities again. 

The Council of Naboo, with Padmé Naberrie heading it originally, had assumed a neutral position, as well as the planet Naboo. Neutrality in this case, though, did not mean that the Council kept out of foreign affairs, on the contrary. The Council was heavily involved almost everywhere. As giant operation it commanded the networks of both Talon Karrde and Yana Dar, which had merged under Karrde's leadership. Additionally, an impressive number of bounty-hunters contracted with the Council, so it could enforce its rulings, and, of course, third parties could contract bounty-hunters over the Council and be certain that their quarry would be found more easily. That way the Council of Naboo had imposed self-regulation on information brokerage and bounty-hunting as well as the businesses dependent on both. 

With excellent connections to governmental and economic leaders all over the galaxy, the Council also had a significant voice in the political arena and was either requested to mediate or acted independently, if necessary. Always very subtle and discreet, of course. It worked, Althan'erudo thought, and that was the positive news. The problem was, though, to keep it a flexible organization. For that they had the Seeker, and the Council itself. Originally it had consisted of Padmé Naberrie as Head, himself representing the Chiss Empire, Lord Anto Andorwyn for the Confederate Zone, Franzis Sarreti for the Sith Empire, and Nolyane for the Star Alliance, with General Seelac representing the New Republic. Now Mon Mothma had replaced Seelac, Syndic Mith'raw'noruodo sat for the Chiss, Tomas Piett for the Confederate Zone, Bred Antham for the Sith Empire and Ishare Luvo for the Star Alliance.

Those changes were significant. Where Padmé Naberrie always had been a politician Al'than'erudo had been trained as a warrior and a Sith. General Seelac from the New Republic had been replaced by the seasoned political veteran Mon Mothma and Franzis Sarreti, the shrewd negotiator of the Sith Empire, had found a successor in former navy commander Bred Antham, whose only political experience had been the short interregnum on Ryloth that he had conducted. Nolyane, the peaceful leader of the Star People, had deemed Ishare Luvo her successor, while Al'than'erudo had been succeeded by the former Grand Admiral Syndic Mith'raw'noruodo. Last but not least the dangerous and scheming representative of the Confederate Zone, Lord Andorwyn, had retired to make room for Tomas Piett. 

Times were changing, then. What did it mean if people like Mon Mothma or Ishare Luvo were elected to the Council? Al'than'erudo knew for certain that Tomas Piett had originally chosen Anto Andorwyn because he did not trust the Kuati fully and had wanted him watched by the other Council members. So in past times the set-up of the Council had reflected the respective nations' leaders and attitudes, as well as the Head of the Council had represented the Council's mission statement. The Chiss sighed ever so slightly. If the New Republic sent Mon Mothma to the Council that meant that her government believed a mediator was needed to see their interests through, while they kept their military commanders at home, but when the Star Alliance and the Chiss Empire sent warlords like Ishare Luvo and former Grand Admiral Mith'raw'noruodo, that meant that both nations were enjoying peaceful times, and that they suspected the rest of the galaxy to assume a military stance soon. 

And Yana Dar had sent Bred Antham. True, Franzis Sarreti had retired ealier than the others, mainly because he had had to assist his wife in building a home for the Empire's new citizens, the Yuuzhan Vong, and that had cost him almost all of his strength and attention. The presence of a military commander as the Sith Empire's representative was therefore more disturbing than the presence of the former Grand Admiral, especially since that commander was not known for his experience. The reason for that significant difference was, that the New Republic feared the Sith Empire more than the Chiss, because they regarded the aging Emperor Ja'an'mandana as civilized, whereas Empress Yana Dar not only had a background as a fringe type, but was also the late Emperor Palpatine's daughter. Her sending Bred Antham therefore sent a message she probably was not even aware of. But Franzis Sarreti should have known what signals he was giving by that. If he knew, why then had he made that choice? 

By rule the Council was neutral in accepting the elected representatives, and there was no reason for not taking Antham on. He was a reasonable, quiet participator, and while he was not as experienced as most of the other members of the Council, he gave good advice and good arguments. All of the representatives were sworn to secrecy concerning the Council's decisions, and none of them would report back to their governments, while they would certainly report on the proceedings _of_ their governments. It was an arrangement that required a lot of trust from the nations, but so far the Council had never ever broken that trust. And yet, Al'than'erudo had a feeling that that time would come someday. How would they handle that? 

Rounding a corner he nodded at the guards stationed in front of the chamber doors, and they drew the doors open in a prescribed ceremony. The Council was already assembled, but to not make the Head of the Council appear like a supplicant the small assembly rose to honor his authority. In the beginning it had made the Chiss slightly uncomfortable to be shown such respect by people like Mon Mothma or, more important, Mith'raw'noruodo. But over time he had accepted the fact that he had been elected to a post that did not require a grand past as politician or a brilliant military record. As Head of the Council he had to be neither to remain neutral himself. Al'than'erudo strode toward his place behind the grand desk at the window and seated himself. The others followed his lead, and he gave each one of them a cool smile. 

"Good news," he announced, "Andarack clan Rim'kai and Her Royal Highness Luzaya Dan have left Byss without difficulties and will be joining us in about five days." His smile turned grim. "We all know why Empress Yana Dar sends her daughter to join us. Traitorous forces threaten to break the peace of the Sith Empire and have already tried to murder the royal consort twice. Andarack clan Rim'kai has also transmitted a request posed by the Cor'dan, Naas Deron, and I for one would ask you to decide how to respond to that request."

He handed a stack of datacards to an aide and left her to distribute them to each Council member. Wordlessly, each one activated the data reader set within their chairs and read the message in silence. As Al'than'erudo had expected, Syndic Mith'raw'noruodo was the first to finish his reading, and his face retained the cool mask he always wore. Bred Antham, in stark contrast, could not suppress throwing a surprised look at the document displayed before him. Mon Mothma, not surprisingly, gave a grunt of outrage, wheras Tomas Piett merely leaned back in his seat, seemingly thoughtful. Ishare Luvo, by contrast to every one else, was smiling openly, and was the first to comment.

"A strange request," the Lappa mused aloud. His grasp on the Basic language had improved significantly. "And a telling one. If he expects things to turn so bad I wonder why he does not request more assistance than this. If we follow this proposal we will be acting too late."

Mon Mothma turned her head to look at the warlord. "That is hardly the question," she said. "This request does not require a direct response to the request itself, what it should prompt us to do is to act at once, and eliminate this threat. I do not think we should allow him to even consider such an option," she added fiercely. 

Mith'raw'noruodo and Tomas Piett shared a questioning glance, then the human nodded at the Chiss to voice their common thought aloud. "First," the former Grand Admiral said, "we should not act on something that might not even come to pass. And yes," he continued quickly, just as Mon Mothma moved to reply, "I do know what the Seeker predicts on said happenings in Sith space. So, second, we do not know whether his suggestion has merit at all. What if this is exactly what is needed to end the conflict?"

For a long moment there was silence, as each Council member digested this, and Al'than'erudo sat staring at the message again himself. 

__

Councillors, 

news of the recent events on Byss have reached you too, as Andarack clan Rim'kai assures me. Yet the consequences of those acts will elude you, since you are not as close to the proceedings as I am. Fact is, that a conspiracy threatens to drive the Empire into chaos again, and I will not allow that chaos to turn into a destructive storm. For safety reasons I have convinced Empress Yana Dar to send the princess to Naboo. She is not safe here, and she is not safe anywhere else but on Naboo. Animosities against the Sith Empire are traditionally strong within the New Republic, and I do not expect that to change now. But events may force me to adopt a harsher stance toward the Empire, and I do not doubt that the response will be equally harsh. The dangers of such a conflict are clear to everyone, I believe, and I would request the Council to name a guardian to ensure that collateral damage does not result from that sort of battle. Again: should it come to my having to take such drastic measures I will not be able to guarantee for the safety of our citizens. 

I do not expect an answer to this request, but action. 

Naas Deron

"So, what you are saying, Syndic, is that he might be turning Darkside voluntarily, and that we may have no choice but to let him? When even _he_ claims that he cannot make guaranties then?" It was Bred Antham who broke the silence, and it was all the more curious to have that question coming from him of all people. "I for one," the representative of the Sith Empire continued, "certainly will not have this Council stand by. I suggest we follow his request and name a guardian. My vote goes to Lord Skywalker."

"No," Al'than'erudo said, not realizing that he had spoken aloud, but then he noticed the surprised glances directed his way. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Not Lord Skywalker. Not _anyone_ connected to the Sith Empire. Which means that Chi'in clan Rim'kai does not qualify either."

"Your reasoning?" Mon Mothma asked sternly. "This is a somewhat strange conclusion, considering how powerful the Cor'dan can be, if it is required."

The Chiss smiled thinly, then rose from his seat, hands crossed on his back as he turned toward the window. "The Seeker made it clear that at the end of the war a new Sith Empire would rise, and as far as I recall Padmé Naberrie reasoned correctly that such an event would spark distrust and discomfort especially within the New Republic. She saw it as justification to establish this Council, which was derived from her husband's dreams of a system of checks and balances that would encompass the entire galaxy." He turned back to face them again and just caught Mith'raw'noruodo nodding in approval. "The rise of the Sith would require a balancing power to ensure peace, but that is not this Council's task. It needs light to balance dark, even if either is just a matter of perspective. We need the Jedi," he concluded. "In short, the only guardian we _can_ appoint without appearing to be taking sides is Luke Skywalker."

Ishare Luvo barked a short laugh, and his voice had a hissing quality to it when he said: "Pardon me, but Luke Skywalker has neither the power nor the insight to stand up to the Cor'dan."

"The Cor'dan," Al'than'erudo lectured him, "is as much tool as he is weapon. I do not believe that he would be allowed to go rampant and destroy everything that was achieved by his predecessors twenty years ago."

Again they digested this, and each one, as he could tell by their faces, realized that he was right. There was no other choice, not if they wanted to risk intensifying the building conflict further. One by one, they nodded at last. 

"Then the vote is unanimous," he declared, satisfied. "We will be sending a messager presently to inform Luke Skywalker of his new mission. Meanwhile, I suggest we discuss Bakura's request on mediation."

"Your turn!" Amerie squealed, dashing out from underneath Padmé's arms just as the former queen and senator bent down to make a grab for her granddaughter, who had just condemned her to another round of chasing her through the house. Something went 'pop' in her back, and she gave a cough at the painful prick in her spine.

"I am too old for this," she announced as she straightened up, one hand pressed against the small of her back. Her face twisted in discomfort, she sighed and turned to face her husband. "Do you want to stand in for me?"

Anakin, seated in his favourite chair, was grinning at her. "I guess I'll give you a massage first. Come here."

With a smile, Padmé walked over to him and dropped into his lap. Of course, _he_ had no such problems, being five years younger and additionally 'blessed' with reinforced bones and artificial limbs. Not that she envied him for those. His hands, working along her spine gently, did wonders for her aching back, and she gradually relaxed again, feeling not at all guilty over leaving her granddaughter to wait for her. As it was, Amerie realized that no one was chasing her far sooner than Padmé had hoped. The girl came around the corner at a dead run and stopped in front of her grandparents, her golden eyes flashing with outrage. 

"Hey!" she demanded, her high child's voice taking on an annoying, screeching tone. "You promised!"

"Amerie, your grandmother has hurt herself," Anakin told her calmly, and immediately the girl's face fell and she suddenly looked very worried. 

Chastised, she ambled over to lay a hand on Padmé's thigh. "Grandma, does it hurt much? Is it my fault?"

She really did look beautiful, with her light cinnamon skin, lush, black hair and large golden eyes. Amerie's face was not as feline and predatory as that of her mother, or her brother's, for that matter. She took more after her father, Padmé found. Tousling the girl's hair she smiled. "It is not so bad. Your grandfather is making it good again. And of course it is not your fault. But we will suspend this game for today, all right?"

"All right." Amerie's features lit up again. "Can we go swimming?"

"Why don't you ask your cousins if they want to go?" Anakin suggested, and Padmé gave an approving nod. "I am sure they would love to take you along," he added. 

Clapping her hands in delight, the girl laughed. "Yes! I will go and ask them," she exclaimed, breathless with excitement, then took off again.

"She has so much energy," Padmé sighed. "I wish I were that young again." When Anakin did not answer she turned her head to look at him. "What's up?"

"Hm?" Momentarily distracted, he gave her a questioning glance.

"You seem so thoughtful. What's going through your head?"

Anakin gave a light shrug. "I was just thinking, that she's so different from Jaina and Jacen when they were her age. In a sense she seems more earnest, not as playful."

"What! Not as playful? Who's been chasing me all over the compound all morning?" Padmé protested.

He gave her an amused look. "Still, I have a feeling that she understands far better what is going on around her than they did. She is more perceptive."

"Perhaps." Padmé pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I blame it on Han," she said, sincere, and made Anakin laugh out loud.

"What makes you think it doesn't come from Leia's side? Perhaps she and Luke were just like that too."

  
"Perhaps," she answered through gritted teeth. "But we will never know, will we?" 

Anakin gazed at her glumly, then drew her into his arms more closely. It was something they had found out over the years as their grandchildren grew up, something that weighed on both their hearts. Disregarding the fact that they had both been delirious with the prospect of having an entire bunch of little children to take care of, they had soon realized that it also reminded them most acutely of what they had missed with their own children. They might imagine that they would have had as much fun with their twins as they had had with Leia's, but it was not the _same_. Anakin and Padmé loved the children dearly, but watching them grow up was a painful reminder of the fact that they would share more of a past with their grandchildren than with their own offspring. And it was far too late to begin establishing a tighter bond to either Luke or Leia. The two of them were grown up, had their own families and problems. 

Nevertheless, family time was precious and sacred within the Skywalker clan. And Naboo was their common retreat, where there was always a place for the children to stay, for their parents to rest. And Pamé found that she really enjoyed having all of them close , being able to care for them. Secretly she suspected that it was a compensation for the loss of her political responsibilities. But then, she had always set others' well-being above her own. Even though the reasons for that might have been selfish. She was being selfish with her own family too, she knew, but she would not want to miss a single moment of the time she spent with them. Padmé exhaled slowly, snuggling up to her husband. 

"Never mind," she whispered. "It is a good life. Very good." Turning her face up to look into those blue eyes that she loved so much she smiled warmly. "And I can't wait for Leia to come visit too." 

"Hold still."

Khameir Sarin-Skywalker smiled at the elderly woman seated behind a large canvas that had been inexpertedly propped up against a table as she squinted at him from her cross-legged seat on the floor. She scrutinized his face and posture so fiercely, that he almost laughed out loud, but only almost. Raisa Tobyn was too good a friend to laugh at. Since his mother's parents had died a long time ago, he had adopted Raisa Tobyn and her husband, Tomas Piett, as replacement, and both were delighted over the devotion both he and his little sister showed them, since they had no children of their own. And his parents were always glad to have someone they could leave their children with, if they had a mission to conduct that was too dangerous for even their fourteen-year-old son. Luke Skywalker and Nuron Sarin-Skywalker operated mostly inside the Confederate Zone and space bordering it. Which meant that they had to content with mediating between the Corporate Sector, the New Republic and both the Chiss and the Sith Empire. Right in the middle of the melting pot. 

Bilbringi, as capital of the Confederate Zone and largest trade post in the region, bustled with the most colorful species, Chiss, Lappa, even Yuuzhan Vong. It was a great place to be, and Khameir made the most of it, especially when his parents left him alone with Raisa and Tomas. He would sneak away and seek adventures he knew he was not supposed to have, but his adopted grand-parents never told him off to his stern mother. That was another thing he loved them for. Of late, though, Raisa seemed to keep a closer eye on him. Especially today. She had managed to always corner him just as he prepared to go out. And now he was stuck with sitting for a portray. Well. Tomas had been called off to Naboo for a special session of the Council, where he represented the Confederate Zone. It was only polite to keep Raisa company, both as guest and devoted 'grandson', while her husband was off world.

She finished the portray with a grand flourish of her brush and nodded sharply at Khameir. "Now you can have a look." Beaming proudly, she slid back on the wooden floor to allow him a better view. 

He rose gratefully from his seat with a tiny sigh that she requitted with a laugh. Then, walking around the table, he stood, hands propped on his hips, to look at himself on the canvas. The first thing he noticed was his eyes, because Raisa had chosen an excellent lighting for his face that set off the blue spectacularly, making his eyes sparkle and at the same time remain strangely mysterious. Set into a smooth, feline face they were probably the most prominent feature, apart from the full lips, which he thought made him almost look like a girl. Black, curly hair and a light cinnamon teint were inheritances from his mother's side, whereas the shoulders, he could see, resembled more his father's built. The portray, Khameir noticed, was an excellent study of light and shadow, and he gave an approving nod. 

"It is good," he said. 

Raisa started to rise and he hurried to help her with a steadying hand. "Thank you," she breathed, and pushed a strand of graying black hair out of her face. "I know it is good," she added. "It captures your character."

"Does it?" Khameir was unconvinced. "I look so young."

"You _are_ young, Khameir!" she laughed. "And turning heads with your looks, of course."

He gave her a sharp glance that softened somewhat as he smiled. "Is that why you won't let me go out today?"

Raisa's jaw dropped, but then she rallied again magnificently fast. "You are too clever for me."

This time it was his turn to laugh. "Me? I am not so clever! I am just perceptive."

"Which is almost the same," she added warmly. "You like the portray?"

"Yes, of course. I like everything you paint." 

"You are such a polite boy," Raisa teased him. "Would you care for a round of patha?" she asked lightly, and the mere mention of that sweet delicacy made his mouth water. 

"Yes, please!"

Following her, Khameir mused about how lucky he was. Raisa and Tomas were spoiling him, he knew, and did it happily. He considered it a rite of passage each of his friends had to go through, just as he and his sister had to. And yet, at the same time he longed for the day when they would see him as an adult, just as they saw his cousins, Jacen and Jaina, who had both turned eighteen this past year. Khameir wistfully thought of the message they had sent him in return for his congratulations, a message from Tatooine, another exotic place he had never seen. _They_ were allowed to travel on their own and have adventures, he mused somewhat enviously. Would he have to wait another four years before his parents allowed him to go his own way? Not to mention his grandparents. A grin stole upon his face. Of course, his father's father and mother were very different from Raisa and Tomas, and this time his little sister had been the lucky one, being allowed to spend a few weeks on Naboo with them. 

Another source for childish envy. But Khameir was very conscious of what traditions he was being raised on, as heir to his father's legacy as a Jedi Knight and his mother's teachings of the Iridonian warrior caste. He had been named for his uncle, after all, who had been a great warrior in his time. And a Sith Lord. He was not certain what position the future held for him, but he could see that they all were being driven in certain directions by their parents. Jacen Solo took more after his mother than did his sister, who had inherited her father's love for reckless adventures. Jacen was more cautious, and Khameir thought him very mature. Which reminded him that he had seen neither twin in quite some time. They would have real fun baby-sitting his sister on Naboo, he believed. And he would also much rather have spent time there, no matter how much he liked Raisa and Tomas. Naboo was the heart of the galaxy, where schemes were being laid out and history made. 

Oh well. Since he had no way of changing his given situation he might as well practise patience and enjoy the rest of the day.

Lying flat on his stomach on the flower-strewn meadows surrounding Varykino, his family's lake retreat, was one of the most relaxing past-times Jacen Solo could think of. Bent over a holonovel, he shared the cozy spot by the lake shore with both his sister and his father. Han Solo though had opted for a more comfortable chair than joining his children on the hard ground. Peaceful silence enveloped the secluded lake and the surrounding mountains, and Jacen was really looking forward to his mother's late arrival for their family vacation on Naboo. Life certainly felt good here. Suddenly an elbow nudged his ribs and he threw a sharp glance at his twin sister. Jaian was grinning broadly, but not at him. 

"Look who's coming," she stage-whispered, and nodded in the direction of the lodge, which lay to Jacen's left. He looked around and squinted into the glare of the morning sun to make out just who his sister was referring to. Then he was grinning too, and sat up, putting the novel aside. 

"Amerie!" he called out and spread his arms for a hug. 

His little cousin launched herself at him with a delighted squeal, and suddenly the peaceful morning had taken on an excited atmosphere, but in a good sense. The three Solos were all grinning at the girl in foolish joy, but none of them thought the other ridiculous for it. Amerie simply was the cutest child, and her older brother had been much more introvert at her age, sadly enough. Her wavy black hair was perfect for tousling, and Jacen was doing just that as he held her in a short embrace. 

"Hey, have you finished playing with Grandma and come to torture us now?" Jaina challenegd the girl and Amerie smiled shyly, pointing at the glittering lake. 

"Will you come swim with me?" she asked. 

The twins shared a look and a smile, "Sure," Jacen announced, standing up. "I've got to get my gear first, I guess." 

At age eighteen the times were long past that he had thought nothing of running around naked in summer, no matter who was looking. Back then he and Jaina had swum races across the lake to the small island just off the shore and played unconcernedly in the wilderness bordering the compound. Now both took more pleasure in baby-sitting their youngest cousin, and Jacen really did not want to find out what that might mean. That he was growing up, probably, and taking on adult responsibilities. But, truth to tell, his sole motive for playing with Amerie was a selfish one. With her, he could be a child again too. Well, almost. 

The little girl was trailing him persistently, as he made his way toward the lodge, but he stopped short when he sensed a presence approaching along the garden path. Looking up, he saw Al'than'erudo walk through the shadows toward him. The Chiss councillor was taller than Jacen, and his face was still young. His glowing red eyes unreadable, he offered a reassuring smile as he came up to join the younger Solo. He spared a glance at Amerie, who had vanished behind her cousin, peeking at the blue-skinned alien from behind the safety of Jacen's legs. 

"Sir," Jacen began with a formal, yet polite nod. "Can I help you?" 

The Chiss, even though being Head of the Council and having been a Council member for the past fifteen years, had always remained a stranger to the Solo children, just as the former Grand Admiral, Mit'thraw'noruodo. Perhaps it was something of a custom among their people to be so distant, but even though they kept good relations to both Jacen's parents and grand-parents, those seemed to be mere politeness, not friendship. Al'than'erudo had already directed his gaze over Jacen's shoulder, having dismissed the youth.

"Your father," he answered. "I need to talk to him."

Jacen, who was well aware of the fact that the Chiss was Force-sensitive, made an inviting gesture toward the lake shore, then took the lead. Al'than'erudo followed, with Amerie keeping close to her cousin. She seemed afraid of the tall alien for some reason, and the boy understood that she was not used to anyone displaying such a cool demeanor toward her. He felt sorry for her then, but he had other things he worried about. What did the Head of the Council want of his father? The trio rounded a copse of short trees and then the lake lay before them. Han Solo had noticed their arrival and had risen from his seat. Jaina, in contrast had remained on the grass, and Jacen almost grinned at her when she brushed a strand of dark hair self-consciously from her brow and tried far too hard to appear aloof. But just as he ignored Jacen, Al'than'erudo also ignored his twin sister and zeroed in on their father. 

"Captain Solo, I have a request."

"Council business?" Father asked suspiciously, and directed a questioning glance at his children. Jacen understood that they might be asked to leave, but to his surprise the Chiss shook his head and soothed them: 

"No need. They can stay."

Since there was only one chair the two adults remained standing, and Jacen did too, feeling somewhat foolish. 

"So, what can I do for you?" Father shrugged. 

Al'than'erudo's face darkened. "I have a mission for your brother-in-law, one I cannot afford to announce over any channel. I would like you to fly the Falcon out there and give this to him." He handed the older Solo an datacard. "Confidential, of course."

"Of course. I suppose this has utmost priority and I will have to leave right away."

"Exactly."

"My wife was expecting to meet us here in three days."

"Yes, I know. I am sorry having to cut your vacation short, but this cannot wait."

Jaina put an arm around Amerie as the girl ambled up to her, and hugged her close, but she never let the newcomer out of sight. There was no denying that she was falling for the Chiss' looks, his bearing, his voice most of all. And she hated it that Jacen threw her a number of knowing smiles as he stood quite awkwardly behind Al'than'erudo, seemingly undecided what to do while the older men talked. Finally he joined her, but just as he had sat down beside the two girls, Father was looking directly at them. 

"What do you say?"

Jaina frowned, embarrassed. "What? Sorry, I haven't been listening," she confessed, ignoring the snigger coming from Jacen. 

"Councillor Al'than'erudo just proposed for you two to join the Freedom on her assignment at Bakura."

Jacen got to his feet instantly. "Bakura?" he exclaimed. "Us?" 

Slowly, Jaina gathered her cousin in her arms and stood too, squinting at the Chiss suspiciously. "Yes," she said. "Why us?"

"The New Republic has sent a military contingent to Bakura at our request," Al'than'erudo explained patiently. "The planet seems to be experiencing trouble with saboteurs, possibly terrorists. We have not yet been able to identify the exact situation and we need a couple of neutral observers to support the military. The two of you are liaised to the New Republic more than to the Council. That's why."

"So you hope to keep the Council's involvement secret," Jaina reasoned. "But Jacen and I have no clue about this sort of thing."

"It is about time you did," the Chiss admonished her sternly, and she blushed furiously, remembering that in his society children learned to take responsibility far earlier than among most human cultures. "I do not doubt that your parents and your uncle have prepared you sufficiently to be self-reliant," Al'than'erudo continued somewhat less harshly. "This is where you begin to set what you have learned into practise. This is as good a beginning as any, and both of you have helped your mother and your uncle on diverse projects and missions. I suppose you will be all right. Besides, the Freedom's commander will help you, if you need support."

"Who is it?" Jacen asked, suspicious. 

"Vice-admiral Teer Shikay. He served as Admiral Needa's second aboard the Eisenhart." The Chiss threw Father a cool gaze, and only now did Jaina notice the anguished look in the older man's eyes. 

"I leave this decision to you," Father pressed out, "but I will not lie to you. I would much rather have you stay here."

"And I would not ask you to go without thorough preparation," Al'than'erduo injected. "Vice-admiral Shikay will be arriving at Bakura today, local time. He will begin to conduct the investigations. I had planned for the two of you to leave Naboo in about six days' time. Just to make certain you understand exactly what is required."

Father gave a reluctant nod, but Jaina could sense easily that he was very concerned. He did not want to let them go, but he did not want to stand in their way either. Seeking reassurance and counsel from her brother, she turned her head to find that pair of eyes so similar to her own. She was was silently begging Jacen to say yes. This would be so grand! The two of them on their first real mission!

"Well," Al'than'erduo said, interrupting the quiet discussion going on between the twins. "You have some time to decide. But I would like your answer tomorrow. No later," he added sternly, then left with a last nod at Father. 

The three Solos gazed at one another, and it was Jacen who broke the silence first. "He is right," he said. "We have indeed been on a number of missions, but none of them was like this one will be. Terrorists?" He gave his sister a wide-eyed glance. "I'm not sure if we can handle this."

A small, relieved smiled tugged at the corners of Father's mouth, but Jaina was not going to concede to the male half of the family. She'd had enough of boring missions. Shaking her head she sent her dark brown tresses flying. "While I agree on that, I also agree with Al'than'erudo that it is time for us to move on. Besides, I suspect he has other motives than our 'expertise' to send us of all people. Why didn't he turn to Jix and Mara? They don't have an assignment right now, and who better to deal with suspected terrorists?" 

"Been hanging around your grandparents too long, haven't you," Father muttered. "But you may be right." He gave his twins a hard glare. "We should tell the two of them and ask their advice. And your mother's, for that matter."

The older twin nodded vehemently, but Jacen seemed doubtful. "I don't kow. I think you're too suspicious."

"Hold on, hold on, Jacen, she really has a point." Father turned to face his son coolly. "Al'than'erudo practically said that he wanted the Council's involvement to stay hidden. So it makes sense for him to send the two of you, as distraction, while he sends someone else to do the real work." He frowned darkly. "No way we're playing this his way. Let's go inside."

TBC


	7. Dark Legacy

Listening patiently to Han elaborate on Al'than'erudo's surprise visit Anakin kept a sharp eye on his grandchildren. Jacen seemed torn between wanting to go and fear of failing on such an important mission. Jaina, by contrast, was almost angry at Al'than'erudo for holding decisive information back from them. And Han was scared near out of his wits. He might accept to let his children run around with their uncle or their mother or even himself, but not alone. It was a fear the former Dark Lord had never known in such intensity. Even though he too had often had cause to worry for his children's safety, he had always been able to soothe himself with the fact that they were grown up. Jacen and Jaina were not. At least that was what their father thought. 

He stole a glance at Padmé, who was seated beside him in one of the chairs by the cold fire-place. Her expression was alert and she was totally focused on the report, while she was already evaluating its meaning. When Han explained about Jaina's suspicions her grand-mother smiled approvingly at the girl. Jacen, who saw that exchange, looked crestfallen and his shoulders slumped just a little bit. Anakin decided to intervene on his behalf.

"This is all very neat thinking," he conceded. "But I don't see how you can accuse Al'than'erudo of lying to you."

Head whipping around Padmé gave him an incredulous look, but said nothing. Han barked a short laugh of disbelief, yet Jaina's face was flushed with anger. "How can we not suspect him of deception?" she snapped. "You of all people should see the signs," she added, and Anakin felt his face turn cold and hard.

"Perhaps, young lady," he said calmly, "you should consider the possibility that suspicion can serve as a blind against the truth just as well as it can be a tool to uncover it."  


"You do not truly believe that, do you?" Jaina challenged him, looking unconvinced.

Anakin gave her a tight smile. "Of course I believe it. Jaina, if you knew what I know about intrigue and deception you would believe the same. It is all very well to see through ploys, but if you see them everywhere you can become easy prey for those who see much more. That was how I fell into Palpatine's clutches in the first place," he reminded them all, and finally his granddaughter gave a grudging nod. "That does not mean that Al'than'erudo might not have withheld some of the truth," the former Cor'dan continued, and this time it was Padmé who laughed. Ignoring her, Anakin looked straight at Han. "I know you have a mission to perform, but I will make sure that no harm will come to your children. Don't worry."

"I don't," his son-in-law announced, but his eyes betrayed him. "You just look after yourselves, and look out for one another," he pleaded, directing a glance at the twins. They nodded in unison, both seemingly stricken with their father's undisguised concern. 

Jacen rose abruptly and went forward to hug Han tight, and Jaina joined the two men a moment later. On impulse, Anakin reached out to take Padmé's hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. They shared a smile, then Anakin rose from his seat and waited for the Solos to acknowledge him. All three turned toward him with somewhat forced smiles on their faces, and he could see how tightly especially Jaina clung to her father. Despite all her criticism and her desire to be independent the bonds she shared with her parents were as tight as that of her brother, though not as visible, perhaps. 

"Leia will be arriving before the two of you have to leave for Bakura. _If_ you want to leave," Anakin added. "Were I in your place I would take her advice seriously. Han, I know you've got to prepare the Falcon, and I suggest you two help your father," he told the twins. Beaming, Jacen and Jaina nodded, then the trio retreated to make the long trip to Theed, where the Corellian freighter was berthed in one of the Royal Palace's hangars. When Anakin turned back to face his wife, he found Padmé strangely thoughtful. 

"Al'than'erudo seems worried," she said, "if he is going to risk Jaina and Jacen as diversion."  


"So you believe he is using them, too?"

Padmé raised her head, her brown eyes earnest. "Al'than'erudo cannot afford playing fair. The Council cannot allow itself any rest. You know that as well as I do, after all, this was your idea in the first place."

"Yes." Nodding slowly, Anakin compressed his lips into a thin line. It was only too true, but back then he had been filled with self-sacrifice and a zeal that bordered on obsession. He had wanted to end the power-struggles between and within the galaxy's differing nations by establishing a system of checks and balances, with the Council of Naboo weighing against all other governments and interest groups. To achieve that goal the Council had to become as powerful and notorious as he had been. But then he had taken the post as Cor'dan, had found that there were other ways to achieve his goals than threats, that there may be more light and compassion around than he had thought. He had grown more placid, less willing to fight so hard again. And yet it had cost him dearly to overcome himself and allow his children and their friends to take over. Still he worried too much, though. In fact, he feared that he would never cease worrying. "I need to find out what is really going on," he told Padmé quietly, but she shook her head and rose from her seat. 

"No, dear. _I_ will go and talk to Al'than'erudo. This is not your arena."

Though he felt hurt, Anakin realized that she was right. He had never played in her league, had never been a politician. "Okay. I'm going to conduct my own investigations," he told her nevertheless.

"Do what you like," she sighed, then started from the room.

Anakin remained where he stood, lost in thought. If he asked Karrde to let him have a peek at the Seeker's latest reports he would certainly receive what information he needed to understand Al'than'erudo's motives. Feeling uneasy, he marched from the room and stopped short upon seeing Amerie's small form farther down the hallway. Her slim body cast in shadows, the little girl gazed at him out of glowing golden eyes earnestly. Smiling, Anakin went down on his haunches and spread his arms for a hug. 

"Hey, little one, come here." She approached cautiously, strangely timid, and Anakin frowned. "What's up, darling?" he asked, worried. Very suddenly she broke into a run and threw herself at him, crying. "Amerie!" Straightening, Anakin held her close to his heart, fear pounding in his chest. "Are you afraid? What happened?" A movement at the end of the hallway caught his attention and he peered into the gloom, trying to see who it was, then used the Force to enhance his perception. There was nothing. "Who's there?" 

A cold breeze traveled leisurely down the hallway, chilling him to the bone and making Amerie shiver in his arms. "I want Mama to come," the little girl pleaded, and the despair in her tone nearly broke Anakins's heart. 

"Amerie," he whispered, feeling helpless against the nameless dread that held the girl prisoner. "There's nothing to fear. Your Mama is all right."

"No!" Amerie screeched and started thrashing in his arms. 

He quickly put her down so she would not hurt herself, but loosely kept his arms around her to lend some comfort. Nevertheless his granddaughter broke from him and started running down the hallway, toward the garden. Following her quickly, Anakin felt his concern grow alarmingly. At the end of the hallway the open door showed the lake's surface glitter in the light of the afternoon sun, so peaceful and at the same time jarring against the darkness of the quiet house. When Anakin reached the doorway he stopped and held his breath. There was something, like an invisible shadow that had settled over the enchanting valley, a feeling of urgency and disaster lurking in the distance. If that was what Amerie had felt it was no wonder she was so disturbed now. The girl's sensitivity was astounding, but she was too young to handle it yet. He saw her kneel at the lakeshore, peering hard into the clear water. What she was seeing there Anakin would have very much liked to know. Determined to help his granddaughter and uncover the reason for her outburst, Anakin stepped outside. But in the last instant something caught his attention at the edge of his vision and he turned his head to the left, only to find a familiar pair of pale green eyes gazing back at him. 

Grimacing wrily, Anakin felt led on again. Raisa, who had painted that portray decades ago, had never met the man it depicted, but had developed the image from the stories she had heard from her husband and friends. For someone who had not known Roj Kell's disturbing mix of cunning and wisdom she had incorporated both pretty well into that painting. It was not a realistic depiction, rather abstract. The eyes and face were mere sketches, but Raisa had a gift of capturing the essence of what she painted perfectly. Anakin gave the portray a solemn nod. When Padmé had insisted on putting the picture here, at the end of the hallway, he had objected, because he had not wanted that reminder of their past inside their home. But Padmé had reasoned that she could think of no one better to guard their backs. Which was why the portray additionally hid a sensor array. 

With a shake of his head, Anakin stepped out into the light to see after his granddaughter. 

When Amerie heard him come up to her she turned her head quickly to throw him a reassuring smile that he returned warmly. Twenty years ago, when he had learned about his father's true identity, Anakin had taken a long time to convince himself that it would not hurt to find out more about the Jedi Master Alamys Jorka. But he had also been afraid to find out that his father had been much less than what Anakin hoped and expected him to have been. In a sense he feared to be as nastily surprised as his own children must have been when they had learned that their own father was none other than the feared and loathed Dark Lord of the Sith. Yet his careful research, supported dilligently by Talon Karrde and his network, had not yielded all that much information. Nothing personal, that was. Alamys Jorka had been the youngest of seven siblings, six boys and one girl in total. The family had lived on Tyreena for generations, and Alamys had been the only one to leave the planet. His sister, Amerie, the oldest of the Jorka children, had had only one son, Alvey, before her husband had died, and she had never remarried. 

Why Luke and Nuron had chosen to name their little daughter after her great-grand-aunt Anakin had never dared to ask. 

As it was, Anakin had found a more personal account of his father's character from a rather unexpected source: Yana Dar. It turned out that the Empress had met the Jedi Master on a Corporate Sector world called Weyla shortly before his death. If one were to believe Yana's report Alamys Jorka had been neither vengeful nor righteous. Faced with his greatest nemesis' only daughter he had not refused her help when she needed it. On the contrary. The brief encounter that Yana had told Anakin in vivid detail had soothed him somewhat, and he believed that, just perhaps, this was a sign that he could be just like Alamys had been. Gentle, wise and decisive. The way Anakin pictured his father now could not come close to the truth, he knew, but it was what he wished his father to have been. There would never be more, he knew. But then, was it not more rewarding to live in the present instead of the past? Reaching out he gently took Amerie in his arms and lifted her up so she could sit in the crook of his elbow. 

"Hey," he whispered. "What's up? The picture in the hallway did not scare you, did it?" Golden eyes wide in denial, she shook her head. Anakin dubbed her nose with his playfully. "Then you're braver than I am, cause I always get scared when I see it."

That made her laugh out loud, just what he had counted on. "Never!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. 

"So, what was it that scared you, then?"

Swallowing slowly, Amerie gazed at him fearfully. Then, cupping her small hands around her mouth, she leaned over to whisper into his ear: "I thought I saw Mama and Papa in a bone castle," she confessed.

"Bone castle?" Anakin said aloud.

"Shhh!" the little girl cautioned him, waving her arms vehemently. Outraged, she shook her head again, sending her black mane flying. "The bone queen will hear you!" she hissed.

"_What_ queen?"

When she looked at him again her golden eyes were full of terror. "She is looking for Khammy," she breathed, then threw herself against his shoulder, sobbing: "I want Mama to come!"

Helplessly patting her tiny back, Anakin found his mind racing. He was not certain if Amerie had only had a bad dream or whether she had had a Force-induced vision of sorts. After all, her parents had left on a mission into the Deep Core, where Anakin knew they would indeed enter a castle of bones, if one were so tasteless as to call a mass grave that. But it was not that which worried the little girl. Amerie, it seemed, was far more concerned for her older brother. And Anakin found it quite telling that she would rather rely on her mother to protect Khameir than on her father. Anakin knew very well that to Amerie her brother was the greatest, that she loved him dearly, perhaps even more than she loved her parents. And she was protective of him too. Therefore her concern was understandable. And what queen was she referring tro? Not Padmé, that was for sure.

"Did you dream that?" he asked at last. 

"Not sure," she admitted quietly. "When do Mama and Papa come home?"

"Soon," Anakin sighed. "Soon."

By the time they came across the ninth or maybe tenth pile of skeletons Luke Skywalker felt hard-pressed to retain the mask of cool composure he had donned the moment he had fully realized what had happened here in the Deep Core's Koornacht Cluster. Genocide. There was no other word for it, and yet words were not enough to describe what old terror still lingered here on Nzoth, the Yevethan homeworld. There were no survivors, he knew. Risking a glance to the right he gazed at his wife, who wore her anger plainly on her beautiful face. Nuron's golden eyes were burning embers of outrage, and her fingers twitched helplessly. There was nothing they could do here, save to bury the dead. 

"What a mess," a weary voice announced, and Luke turned his head to look sharply at Doctor Plawal, the tall human scientist who had asked the Council for assistance in his upcoming research in the Deep Core. 

During the war against the Yuuzhan Vong and in its aftermath no one had bothered much with investigating the Deep Core, not only because resources had been stretched, but also because the Yevetha were known to harbor rather isolationist views. But then, a decade ago, when the New Republic had begun coveting more allies to counter the Sith Empire's expansion into Chiss space and its good relations to the Confederate Zone the Republic diplomats had also tried to establish contact to the Yevetha. Then a heavily armed foray team had ventured into the Nzoth system, since every effort at hailing the planet had failed. They had found Nzoth's population savagely slain, while, miraculously, the colonists in the outlying worlds of the system had survived. With other problems on its agenda the New Republic had abandoned any thoughts of researching the why and how of this horrendous disaster, but news had trinkled throught to the Council. Luke remembered all too well his father's reaction and that memory still made him shiver. Anakin had known who was responsible for the Yevetha's annihilation, but by that time their murderer had been dead for years himself, buried on Laa'kuan. 

But a few months ago Doctor Pawal, funded by a private humanitarian organization, as far as Luke could tell, had been given the task of researching the exact cause of the wipe-out on Nzoth. To ensure the safety of his team and to be able to draw upon the Council's extensive information network Pawal had approached the Council of Naboo to gain assistance from them. And Luke, who himself felt in part responsible for the massacre, had accepted instantly. Decades ago, back on Laa'kuan, he had sought to destroy a Yuuzhan Vong fleet with the aid of the incredible power amassed in the sanctuary on the secluded planet. Back then he had caused the deaths of thousands of soldiers, both friend and foe, when his efforts had sparked the birth of a giant black hole that had swallowed the Yuuzhan Vong fleet as well as a friendly Chiss task force. He had learned then that the energies he had unleashed had been assembled by none other than Roj Kell, the guardian of the sanctuary. _Do you have any idea what it cost me to direct these energies here, at Laa'kuan?_ the ancient Sith had asked wearily. Now, standing among the dead of Nzoth, Luke knew just what price had been paid. 

"A mess?" Nuron snarled angrily. "You call this a mess, Doctor? This is a catastrophe!"

"No doubt about that," Pawal replied coolly. He nodded at the burly woman standing next to him. His assistant scurried off, leaving the Doctor alone with both Luke and Nuron. "Now, Master Skywalker, do you have any idea how this could have happened?" he asked quietly. 

Luke nodded. "I believe I do."

"So?"

Grimacing wrily, the Jedi Master sought reassurance with his wife, but Nuron's expression was carved from stone. "Well," he began, as he turned back toward Pawal. "We, that is, my father, myself and the Cor'dan, believe that a Sith Lord slew these people to use their life energy to power a weapon against the Yuuzhan Vong."

"A Sith Lord," Pawal breathed, and Luke had no trouble sensing the man's disgust. "His name was not, by any chance, Roj Kell?" Luke nodded. "You should have killed him when you could," the Doctor snorted, then turned away to rejoin the rest of the team. 

"He's right," Nuron agreed coolly. 

Luke flashed her a grin: "You don't believe that a minute, do you? Had we killed him back on Coruscant or Korriban we would have been wiped out by the Yuuzhan Vong." He turned serious again. "And you know as well as I do that he chose his own punishment for what he did here."

"And that gave him the right to do what he did?" his wife protested heatedly. "I won't deny that he helped us immensely, in his own way, mind you. But I don't think the Cor'dan can remain apart from rules and regulations that have been accepted by the majority of peoples in this galaxy."

"He could. For three thousand years," Luke countered calmly. "And while I certainly don't condone his methods, I don't believe he meant to harm either."

"You're too naive for me," Nuron breathed. "Luke, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, always did. And even if his overall goal had been good, he was still evil, immensely evil, if that evil is measured on a smaller scale. And it is no excuse that he did not spare himself either."

But Luke, who had heard that line often enough over the years, was pensively gazing at Doctor Pawal, who stood talking animatedly with the rest of the research group. There were five scientists and ten mercenaries who supposedly were there to lend a hand if protection was needed. "I wonder how he could guess that Kell was responsible for this," he mused aloud.

"Agreement on Scientific and Historical Research, Segment Two of the Public Service Amendment to the Council of Naboo's charter," Nuron replied with a smile. "We don't keep _all_ of the old man's knowledge to ourselves," she added. 

"I seem to remember that, yes," Luke sighed. "The Seeker did not say anything about this."

"How could it have? That memory flash-print was done years before Kell died."

The Jedi Master shook his head vehemently. "That's not what I meant. What I meant was that nothing in that memory flash-print points toward a ritual such as this one."

"Kell was always quite unconvential in what methods he employed."

"Hey, we're real lucky all those Sith are on the other side of the border, right?" a rough voice hollered across the mass grave. 

Both Luke and Nuron turned toward the speaker. He was a human in his middle-years, heavily armed, and his fierce gaze belied the mirth his bad joke suggested. Before Luke could hold her back, Nuron strode toward the mercenary, her slender body looking incredibly frail next to the man's bulk as she confronted him. 

"And what do you mean by that, exactly?" she demanded coldly. 

The man looked her up and down quite pointedly, but he was talking over her shoulder, toward Luke, when he answered: "Well-known fact that those sorcerers thrive in that Empire your glorious campaign two decades back failed to destroy. Them and their Yuuzhan Vong pets." He spat on the ground at Nuron's feet, missing her boots just barely. "I figure that we've had enough Sith slaying innocent people and claiming it was in the name of justice and order. I figure we don't need _any_ sorcerers to tell us what's right or wrong. Seems to me that we know better than _you_ do what's right." And that last statement was certainly meant for Luke himself. 

As he made his way over to join both his wife and the man who had challenged them both Luke was in no hurry. He did not want to seem driven by guilty conscience or fury, so he kept his features blank and his hands where everyone could see them. But Nuron, who had once sworn to be his guardian, could not resist answering the man's badly timed insult. 

"There is a custom my people honor," she said softly, and Luke could imagine the earnest gaze in her golden eyes. 

But her opponent met her glare unflinchingly. "Yeah? Didn't know you people had any honor at all."

Hand dropping lightly on Nuron's right forearm, Luke inserted himself between his wife and her would-be-victim. If he let her have her way she would indeed challenge that fool over her honor, and her husband's, of course. "Mister - ?"

The man spat again, and this time the spittle did hit Luke's right boot. The Jedi Master felt Nuron's muscles tense into hard cords underneath the cloth covering her arm. Squeezing gently, he cautioned her, never taking his eyes off the burly human confronting them.

"Name's Frek Nessel," the mercenary answered, "and I'm damn proud of that name. No mass murderers or Sith Lords in _my_ family, farm-boy."

Luke smiled thinly. Nessel was clearly trying to provoke them, and unfortunately Luke had given a promise to accompany the research team. If he and Nuron drew out of that promise now the Council of Naboo would get flamed for that withdrawal. Somehow he got the feeling that this had been Pawal's plan all along. For a moment the Jedi Master regretted dearly that he had not taken Talon Karrde's offer of having the Doctor's clients' background checked a bit more thoroughly. Now he had to see to it that he circumnavigated this sticky cliff without losing face and without Nuron losing her temper. It would be humiliating for sure, but that was the price one had to pay for wisdom, sometimes. Still, this change of events had surprised him, as he had relied on the Seeker's prediction for this mission, and the Seeker had clearly approved. Perhaps Nuron was right after all, and he should start distrusting Roj Kell's thinking mode a bit more. 

After all, the Seeker had been developed on the late Emperor's orders to imitate the ancient Sith Lord's thought processes, to be able to make use of the flash-print taken of the man's memory back on Byss. Knowing that no available computer program could handle that influx of data Palpatine had had a cadre of talented scientists and slicers work on the Seeker-program to unlock the secrets harbored within his former mentor's mind. Unfortunately he had not lived to see the Seeker operational. But Luke had seen it in action, and he knew the value of three thousand years of knowledge administrated by a program that could analyze a given problem with a certainty of ninety-nine point nine per cent and had at its disposal a reevaluation motivator that, if it spotted a flaw in a given train of reasoning, could correct an analysis with a lop-sided _Delay Execution_ in the matter of ten seconds, _and_ offer an alternative. 

"Well, Mister Nessel, I am certain that to you it must seem like that, but perhaps you lack the perspective to understand the entire picture," Luke said reasonably, trying to infuse the man's mind with calm, reassuring thoughts. 

Nessel frowned angrily. "Are you saying I'm an idiot?"

"No, absolutely not," the Jedi Master replied with a shake of his head. "I merely meant to point out that things sometimes are not what they seem."

"I can see what's in front of my eyes well enough!" Nessel exclaimed, and an expansive gesture took in the entire graveyard. "You can't talk that away! And you and your cronies _knew_ who was responsible fo this and did nothing to bring that someone to justice!"

"That he managed himself," Luke muttered under his breath. 

When Roj Kell had arrived at Laa'kuan only to find that Luke had already spent the energy he had gained by slaying Nzoth's inhabitants and redirected to the labyrinthine sanctuary on that secluded world, he had forgone any further use of his innate power until he had been beyond help, mortally wounded in a ritual sacrifice conducted by the Yuuzhan Vong warmaster Marayl Carr. The annihilation of Nzoth's Yevethan population had not been the only massacre caused by the ancient Sith Lord, though, but Roj Kell clearly had been responsible only to himself. And Luke was learning the hard way that perhaps he himself would have to choose that same path. Especially if sentiments like those obviously harbored by Nessel and Pawal were more wide-spread than the Jedi Master had previously thought. 

Fixing the mercenary in a blue-eyed glare, he nodded curtly. "I suggest we all have our jobs to do. Far as I recall that's to secure the area, so let's get to it." With those words he strode past Nessel, careful not to touch the man even accidentially, and felt Nuron follow on his heels, her temper cooled somewhat. She caught up with him as he strode down what was left of the capital city's main boulevard and they walked in silence for a while.

"What do you think we'll find here?" he asked softly.

"Apart from the bodies?" she asked right back, voice grim. "You mean to imply that the Seeker sent us here for a purpose?"

Luke gave his wife a boyish grin. "Nuron, how could _you_ of all people doubt that? Come on," he added, "somewhere on this planet there's a secret that needs to be uncovered." 

Jaina Solo stood at her brother's side at the very edge of the royal hangar, peering after the rapidly disappearing all too familiar disk-shape that was the Millennium Falcon. By the time the three Solos had been finished with prepping the old freighter evening had been turning to night on this side of the planet, and their time was running up fast. Tomorrow they would have to give Al'than'erudo their answer. And while she really wanted to go to Bakura and join Teer Shikay's command, she could also sense that Jacen was more than reluctant to go. But what could really happen to them? Even if Al'than'erudo was using them as decoy he would never dare endanger them. They would probably spend the entire assignment on the Freedom, never even coming close to trouble. Then why was she so eager to go?

The answer was not all that easy. On one hand she wanted to prove to her parents that she and Jacen were both grown up, that they could handle their own missions. And on the other hand she felt that a mission of their own would help both of them grow in the Force. Though their mother and uncle had been training them whenever there was time, Jaina felt that they knew not much more than theory. They needed more practise, and though it hurt to think that way, she sometimes thought that the overpowering presence of either Mother or Uncle Luke somehow diminished her own perception of the Force. And what was more, she knew that, deep inside, Jacen felt the same way. He was just more cautious than she was, more thoughtful, and more inclined to give in to an adult's arguments. 

"You really want to go on that mission, don't you?" he said suddenly, and Jaina's head snapped around to look into his brown eyes, mirror to her own. 

She nodded sharply. "Yes. I feel we have to do this."

  
"I guess I agree," he shrugged. "And still..." Before she could protest, he continued: "I suppose between Mother and Grandfather to prep us nothing much can surprise us on that trip."  


Triumphant, Jaina spread her arms wide. "Finally you're seeing sense!" she exclaimed, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come. Grandma will want to take us back with her to Varykino."

"No. Grandma is staying overnight. And you two will do the same," their grandmother's voice announced from behind them. Surprised, both twins whirled around to face Padmé's petite form. She was smiling at them. "If this is proof that you really did not sense me approach I might agree with you, Jaina, that you two need to grow some more in the Force."

"For how long have you been listening?" Jacen asked, ears burning red.

"How did you know what I meant?" Jaina herself inquired, frowning.

Their grandmother gave an elegant shrug. "I have been married to your grandfather long enough," she explained. "One tends to pick up that way of thinking over so long a time," she added with a smile. 

Jaina smiled back. "Have you talked to Al'than'erudo?"

"Yes. He evaded most of my questions, but I believe your suspicions are right, Jaina. In that case I do not think that much can happen to you. I have also talked to your mother."

"You have!" Jacen exclaimed, aghast. "What did she say?"

Grandmother arched a brow questioningly. "What do _you_ think?"

"She refused," Jaina replied, feeling disappointed. 

"You really think so? Your mother has donned the mantle of responsibility much earlier than you will," grandmother told her gently. "Though she is certainly not thrilled, she recognises the need of your beginning to go your own ways." She winked at the twins conspiratively. "I fear she will be bringing all documents the Coruscant Administrative Library has on Bakura."

Jaina groaned in fake exasperation, but Jacen asked: "What about you? What do you think of our going?"

For a moment grandmother's face turned to stone. Then she said lightly: "Does it matter?" 

She turned away to leave, and Jaina found herself sharing a troubled gaze with Jacen. Somehow it felt wrong to leave on a mission that was disapproved of by at least two family members. So far the twins had been used to things being done only by consent, and it felt strange to have their mission of all possible ones become the shatterpoint of familial consent. But then, perhaps this was part of growing up. To present a front for once, and stand firm even against one's family.

Jacen returned his sister's troubled look, sensing her dilemma. And yet, he felt that they should not be so surprised to have this coming at them now. Al'than'erudo was right, as was Grandmother. The two of them needed to leave childish fears behind them at last. Wistfully, he pondered the past afternoon and his thoughts on growing up. It was not that he shied away from taking responsibility, but he believed that the consequences could be crushing, and he was not at all certain whether he was prepared to face that. With his grandfather and uncle as prime examples for two different ways to sacrifice compassion and innocence to achieve balance, Jacen felt that perhaps there was not one right way to become a true guardian. Eventually one was walking that path alone, and he feared that Jaina's path was different from his. A frightening prospect. 

The problem was, that, apart from his twin sister, he had no real comparison to other Force-sensitive children growing up around him. Yes, of course Amerie and Khameir, Uncle Luke's children, were both strong in the Force, but they were being raised by two very earnest and dutiful people, whereas Jacen and Jaina had a father who took life much easier than his wife did, for example, and a mother who was, sadly enough, mostly occupied with politics. Jacen thought that Khameir, when he had last seen his cousin, had seemed so much more mature than he himself had been at that age. As for Amerie, though she retained her child-like attitude she would sometimes pause and give her surroundings a most inquisitive look, that seemed to belie her age completely. 

And their closest childhood friend had grown apart from them by taking a leap into womanhood and adult life two years ago. Neither he nor Jaina had seen Luzaya Dan ever since she had announced that she was becoming apprentice to the Cor'dan. While both twins certainly thought that mysterious and thrilling, they secretly doubted that Luzaya ever would become a true guardian. She was not Force-sensitive in the least, and to their knowledge all Cor'dan so far had been quite powerful in that regard. Powerful, and dark. It frightened Jacen a little to think of lively Luzaya that way, as he remembered her much differently. Mischievous, spoiled, and always laughing, she had sometimes been even more childish than her younger friends. Jacen found himself grinning in remembrance, and got nudged by Jaina for his trouble.

"Are you daydreaming or what?" she hissed, then grabbed his arm to drag him along after their grandmother, who had almost reached the hangar's exit.

"Just thinking of old friends," he shot back, and his older sister gave him a curious look.

"Luzaya?"

Jacen nodded. "She's coming here, with Andarack," he replied needlessly. 

"Yeah," Jaina replied slowly, "I'm looking forward to seeing her too." But she didn't sound very convincing. Jacen caught her smoothing down her long brown hair self-consciously and smirked at her. But, seeing her expression when she found him looking, he wisely said nothing.

Both keeping silent, the twins hurried after Padmé, each lost in thought.

PS:

Thanks for the reviews, Gwen, I really appreciate it!


	8. Trouble Aplenty

"Your pilot must be an imbecile," Luzaya told Andarack haughtily, as she strode after the short warrior toward the cockpit of the Council-owned yacht Ardana Grey, an improved version of Chi'in's old ship, the Ardana Ver, which had been destroyed during the last war, at Miecona, by a Yuuzhan Vong scout party. 

If Andarack was insulted he did not show it. "My apologies, Princess, but he is usually quite reliable. That he failed to refill the fuel tanks in time before our leaving Byss again is unusual."

"Really," she commented, just for the sake of keeping him reminded of her displeasure. The two of them entered the cockpit swiftly, where Mahel was already bent over a read-out, presumably studying the possible dangers awaiting them on whatever backwater planet they had landed on. "I dearly hope that we are at least within New Republic space," Luzaya announced. "I would not want this delay turn into an extended stay here," she added in a sniff and joined the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Mahel quietly made room for her so she could look over his elbow at the display. Since their pilot had already left the ship to negotiate for fuel, he was spared the princess' foul mood, but Luzaya vowed that she would not forget to reprimand him for this miscalculation later on. "Where are we anyway?" she demanded.

Mahel gave her a sideways glance, then gingerly pointed at the readout. "We are indeed in New Republic Space, Your Highness, and halfway to Naboo. One could say that, for an 'accident', this delay is remarkably well timed." 

"What?" Luzaya was confused. She had no idea what he was getting at, and in her bewilderment she almost did not notice the look that passed between Mahel and Andarack clan Rim'kai. But she did see the thin smile on the Noghri Sith Lord's face. Frowning, the princess decided to ignore this mysterious exchange. "Very well. As long as we can continue this voyage quickly." There was the hint of a suspicion, though, one that made her slightly angry. "Since your pilot seems to have some trouble negotiating we should perhaps go and support him?"

It was not a question, and Luzaya swept past Andarack briskly, but he spoiled her grand exit by shrugging noncommitally, before he followed her, with Mahel on his heels. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior fell behind and vanished in his own cabin for a moment, while Luzaya, feeling a bit uncertain again with her bodyguard gone, stepped up to the ship's landing ramp. She did not entirely trust the Noghri with her. Andarack slapped the release hatch for the ramp casually and strode ahead, his dark eyes scanning the docking bay swiftly. If Luzaya was any judge, though, the Noghri would be searching with more senses than just his eyes. 

"Everything seems to be clear," he announced at last, then turned at the foot of the ramp to face her. "You can come out, Your Highness."

"Wait!" Mahel shouted, hurrying to join Luzaya. She gave him an approving glance and smiled. Clad in full battle-armour, Mahel really did look fearsome, with his amphistaff curled around the bracer on his right arm, and the heavy blaster-rifle slung across his shoulder. "Now we can leave," he said a bit sheepishly, then preceded Luzaya as she walked down the ramp to join Andarack. 

The Noghri frowned at Mahel, but said nothing. Wordlessly, the trio made its way toward the bay's exit, and Luzaya noticed the dock master's clerk assigned to this facility give a start at something she first could not identify, until she turned back to look at her Yuuzhan Vong companion. Brows climbing high, she thought she now understood Andarack's disapproval. By the look of him, Mahel was a small invasion force all by himself. He was tall, even for a male of his species, and the armour made his actually slender body appear more powerful. And he wore his battle helmet too. For someone who had self-proclaimedly forfeited the old ways of his people, Mahel Sivaraya's outfit unmistakenly harkened back to exactly those times. And still, despite that obvious contradiction, Luzaya found that he did not seem misplaced or in any way uncomfortable. 

It was very strange. On one hand she found herself sharing the Nogrhi's unspoken point of view, that Mahel was drawing unnecessary and unwanted attention, but on the other hand she felt proud of what he embodied, for this was what her mother had hoped to achieve during her long reign, that her people would one day truly be one and accept one another's past. She decided that, for now, she would take the risk and not tell Mahel to change into something less spectacular and menacing. The Empire had nothing to hide, after all. Her rising confidence was deflated a bit by her recalling the serious talk she's had with both her father and her mother. Well, she thought defiantly, the Empire really did have nothing to hide, and nothing to justify itself for. If other people could not cope, it was _their_ problem, for Force's sake! But when the three of them passed through the outer corridor and stepped into the port's common area together, she still swallowed hard when she found a squad of New Republic soldiers confronting them. The fifteen uniformed warriors were all grim-faced and gazing above Luaya's and Andarack's heads only at Mahel. One of them, the elader, the princess thought, waved the Yuuzhan Vong forward. 

"You! Come over here."

Her temper flaring, Luzaya Dan began to take a step forward, when Andarack's clawed hand fell on her arm. "Let him handle this," the Noghri told her quietly. 

"But I am – " she began in a hiss, and he silenced her with a long look from his unfathomable eyes. Clamping her teeth shut, Luzaya felt very angry indeed. She was heir to the Empire's throne! These people had no right to treat her or her companions the way they did! And Andarack traveled on behalf of the Council of Naboo! What did they think they were doing? And what did the Noghri think he was doing? Frowning, Luzaya suddenly thought back on what Mahel had said about their unwelcome delay, and she got the distinct feeling that Andarack clan Rim'kai knew exactly what he was doing, and why they were here, wherever here was. 

The New Republic soldiers tensed a bit as Mahel Sivaraya's imposing form strode toward them unconcernedly. "Is there a problem?" the young warrior asked calmly. 

"Your identification?" the squad leader demanded a bit gruffly, but he also sounded a bit undertain. 

Mahel nodded solemnly, then produced what looked like a chip-card reader, but with a distincly organic look. Showing the milky-white display off to the officer, Mahel ran his thumb across the razor-sharp edge of the reader. The creature drew blood and produced the identification instantly. The device was a newer application, product of the good working relations between Yuuzhan Vong shapers and Imperial scientists. Together, they strove to create ageneration of tools and organisms that used both mechanical and organic materials. Luzaya was actually very proud of that accomplishment. Of course, Naas Deron disapproved, because he promoted respect for life in any form. Due to his standing, the shapers and scientists therefore always sought approval from him first, before they implemented one of their new discoveries. And Luzaya could certainly see that those impressed the New Republic soldiers.

Their leader was staring queerly at the display, then gave apained nod. "All right. Seems to be okay. I guess no forgery's possible with that kind of ID card," he added with a nervous laugh. He gave Mahel's masked face an uncertain glance. "And your business?"

"Refueling our ship," the warrior replied calmly. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"Perhaps," the man frowned. "We would like to take oyu – and your companions to headquarters. We – "

"This _is_ New Republic Space, is it not?" Mahel interrupted him gently. "And this is an Imperial ID card I am showing you, is it not? I do not see any problem at all, then, officer. The Free Trade And Travel Agreement Section 5b explicitly forbids random seizure of citizens foreign to the authorized confederacy, except in cases of emergency or imminent danger. None is apparent here, I would say. I daresay that, if you were to escort us to your headquarters, one or both might come to be the case, though."

Luzaya's features went rigid at that. He'd been doing so well so far! Again she considered to interfere, but then realized that Mahel's last words practically excluded that possibility. He did not want these men to find out who she was, and she had no idea why. Andarack, apparently, thought the same Mahel did, for his hand was back on her arm, cautioning her. 

"Now, you might say, there _is_ a problem," the New Republic officer snarled. "You are impeding an officer in conduct of his duty, Mister Sivaraya," he continued coldly. "Besides, we do not appreciate having dangerous fanatics running around the port. Take your helmet off, sir. Now."

It was a clear challenge, Luzaya knew, and more than that, it was a studied insult. The officer wanted Mahel to yield to his authority, not only because of his ruffled pride, but also because of the crowd that had silently been gathering around the trio during the previous exchange. Luzaya was horrified at the looks the people crowding around them threw at the tall Yuuzhan Vong. And Mahel certainly saw those too. Of course. Luzaya knew that, dressed in armour as he was, Mahel would only remove his helmet in front of a superior warrior, which this New Republic soldier hardly was. She bit her lower lip hard, wondering how he would react. He was placid enough to let this insult pass, but still a warrior, something he took great pride in. As it was, pride had to stand down in favour of caution. Removing the helmet, Mahel revealed his face fully, and Luzaya almost gave a delighted laugh when she realized the deeper implications of his move.

The soldiers, as well as the crowd, had expected a butcher's face, a mutilated, ugly, inhuman visage that the ignorant had come to associate with the Yuuzhan Vong of the Sith Empire. What they _did_ see now, though, was a face that, though not handsome by human standards, bore a calm and superior expression that commanded respect and certainly did not inspire alarm. It was then that Luzaya, for the first time since she had first met him, understood that Mahel was much more than she had thought. Beside her, she saw Andarack give an approving nod. He had known, of course, all the time, as well as Naas Deron had known. Only she had been ignorant. Stupid, pampered Luzaya Dan was too blind to see the obvious. She blushed furiously, and lowered her head to hide her shame, but then she saw Mahel turn his head slightly to look over his shoulder at her, and there was such genuine concern in his eyes that she felt her embarrassment fade as quickly as it had come. He was waiting for her approval, she realized, and the very thought filled her with a strange warmth she could not quite identify. 

Stepping forward, Luzaya joined her bodyguard, and noticed only peripherically that this time Andarack made no move to restrain her. Her tone was decidedly frosty when she said, "Mahel, these good gentlemen surely will understand that I have urgent business to attend to and therefore will not tolerate an even longer delay on this journey." She emphasized her words with a heated glare directed at the leader of the squad, and her pale blue eyes did their job perfectly. She had, after all, practised to copy her mother's famous stare. And the princess was certainly well-schooled as coming off as the arrogant, spoiled and rich chit. 

  
"No problem, my lady," the officer replied smoothly, and stepped back. "I think we have seen all we needed to see."   
  
"Yes," she breathed, her eyes scanning the crowd coldly, "_that_ I believe too." 

Mahel Sivaraya gave the princess an admiring glance as the New Republic soldiers turned away to leave. The crowd, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, was not dispersing yet, but he decided to ignore that fact for the time being. Luzaya, her pale blue eyes strangely cold, returned his glance, then nodded, before she turned her head to look at Andarack. "Your pilot?" she asked calmly, and the Sith Lord gave a curt nod, before he walked ahead of them. Following, Mahel took up the rear position to shield the princess if necessary. As it was, it was not her who needed protection. 

The crowd parted before Andarack's small form, but when Mahel slipped through behind Luzaya, someone quite purposefully shouldered past him, a provocation, that certainly did not escape the young warrior. He knew that the soldiers were not so far away yet that they could not lend aid to the mob, should he react hostilely. So he ignored the grim faces around him and politely worked his way through the crowd. To his annoyance, they did not seem inclined to let him go his way, and he grew pretty angry when the throng closed him off from Luzaya, who threw a bewildered look back before she bent foward to alert Andarack to Mahel's predicament. When she looked at the Yuuzhan Vong again, her face was a mask of indignation and righteous anger. Seemingly fending off the Noghri, she started back toward Mahel. Another mobster brushed up against Mahel roughly, spinning the unresisting warrior around. With rising concern, Mahel felt his amphistaff awaken to its master's anxiety. The creature reared up and hissed menacingly, before the Yuuzhan Vong could calm it again. A few of the people standing in front of him scrambeld back, horrified by the sight of the snake-like weapon.

A scream made him spin around again and he saw that two men were trying to hold Luzaya back forcibly. Enraged, Mahel went forward to free her, but not before putting his helmet back on. Hands reached for him roughly, but he slapped them away, focused only on the princess. She was talking rapidly, and he could well imagine that the mob was getting the sharp side of her tongue. He almost smiled at that. Then one of the men nearly pushed her over, and she whirled around, eyes blazing fiercely. Alarmed, Mahel increased his efforts to reach her and people were flung left and right, before the crowd realized that he was quite a bit stronger than he appeared and made room enough for him to join Luzaya's side. Andarack was nowhere to be seen. For a moment Mahel felt betrayed by the Noghri. He had seen through the Sith Lord's game already back at the ship, realizing that it was far too coincidental that their fuel had supposedly only sufficed to get them here, right in the middle of the New Republic. It was a test, Mahel knew, and something more, that made him even more furious. 

Right now, though, Andarack clan Rim'kai was not his concern. Standing back to back with Luzaya Dan, Mahel Sivaraya calmly reached for his heavy blaster rifle. Raising his voice to be heard over the crowd, he said, "Stand back! I will warn you only once! The next one who dares touch her is dead!" The crowd held, but their eyes told him well enough that this would not last for long. Thinkingfrantically, Mahel whispered at Luzaya, "Can you go back and get to Andarack?"

"I don't think so," she hissed back. "And I have no idea where he is."

"I thought he was somewhere behind you!"

There was a brief silence, then she said, "He did not want me to interfere."

Mahel nodded to himself. "I thought so, yes. But he won't be far. How many between you and the edge of the crowd?" He shuddered when her palms closed about his shoulders as she used his body to draw herself up higher and peer over the heads of the peopel surrounding them. He could feel her weight on him, and the very thought of her touching him almost made his knees buckle with a strange, delicious weakness. Mahel closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head to get rid of very distracting thoughts.

"Three rows, I think," she announced finally. 

"Okay." The Yuuzhan Vong turned around, and clasped one arm around her waist determinedly. His armour would hold off any weapon these people might try to use against him, he knew, and he did not want to prolong this confrontation unnecessarily. Blaster rifle held out before him, he frog-marched the princess through the crowd, and was pelased to see that it parted before them slowly, if reluctantly. Something hit the back of his shoulder, but he did not bother to turn around. They reached the edge of the throng of people without further incidents, and Mahel escorted Luzaya even further, until they had reached the squad f troopers they had encountered previously. Their leader gave Mahel a somewhat confused look, as if he were undecided about what to do. 

"Is there a problem, my lady?" he asked Luzaya, who gave a low snort before she twisted out of Mahel's grasp. But, unseen by the soldiers, she let her hand linger on the Yuuzhan Vong's forearm a little longer, and smiled at him warmly, mouthing a 'thank you'. 

Then she turned back to face the New Republic officer and replied, "No problem, safe for this trash lingering in our way. I had thought the New Republic would enforce order with a bit more enthusiasm than this."

The man's mouth quirked in a mirthless smile. "I am certain that the empire indeed would sue more force," he said accidly. 

"Wrong," the princess replied, her voice icy cold. "You would not _find_ anyone impeding travellers in an Imperial port. And do you want to know why? It is a matter of respect, officer."

And with those words she swept past the squad, with Mahel following her placidly. They soon left the corridor behind and found Andarack waiting at the corner. Without breaking stride, Luzaya walked past the Noghri, not sparing even one glance for him. "Mahel, if you were to haggle for fuel, where would you go?" she addressed her bodyguard, studiously ignoring the Sith Lord.

"In this special case," the Yuuzhan Vong answered calmly, aware of the short alien walking behind him, "I would try one of the closest taverns."

There was a cut-off laugh from the Noghri, as Luzaya whirled around and threw first Mahel, then Andarack an incredulous look. "Is that so?" she demanded, but gave a short nod and stormed off without waiting for an answer, heading for one of the closer tap-cafés. Mahelmade as if to follow her, but stopped short and let Andarack walk past him before he lay a hand on the Noghri's shoulder and turned him toward himself as one might handle a child. "Andarack clan Rim'kai," he began respectfiully, " a word with you, if I may."

The Noghri's unfathomable black eyes turned upward to regard him inquisitively. "Please. Go ahead."

"You lied to Her Highness about your pilot and the fuel," Mahel began, not bothering to wrap up the truth nicely. "And you are obviously trying to use the princess to bait whoever is trying to disrupt the workings of the Empire. This world is conveniently out of the way and could be used as the perfect trap to expose these traitors," he contiinued. "Am I right so far?"

"You are," Andarack nodded, unpertubed by the accusation.

Mahel heaved a satisfied breath. "Good. As you know, I have sworn to protect Her Highness no matter what. I therefore strongly consider finding different transport to Naboo."

"Is that so. And where would you, a Yuuzhan Vong, find another transport here of all places?"

"Credits. These infidels have no honour, most of them, at least. They would sell honour and dignity for any amount of money. I think I will find transport easily."

The Noghri's expression changed, and something like surprise appeared on his nightmarish features. "You are not as naive as you appear to be, aren't you. I take it Naas Deron knew exactly why he chose you to protect the princess, and not only because he has seen your future. I would still advise you to remain with the Ardana Grey. There are more deathtraps on this world than you could ever know, no matter how clever you are."

"Then we will leave at once. Just as soon as Luzaya Dan has rooted your pilot out of this drinking house," Mahel stated, feeling incredibly satisfied. 

Andarack gave a curt nod. "As you wish, Mahel Sivaraya. I can see that there is no fooling you after all."

To that, Mahel merely smiled. 

Three days had passed, since they had first begun to explore the planet more closely. And unfortunately it had been Frek Nessel, who had found the entrance to the caves. The mercenary's already strained temper had flared again, when he had found another mass grave there, hundreds of bodies and skeletons, which, according to Doctor Pawal, belonged mainly to females and children. The mood on Nzoth dipped sharply into a very gloomy curve, that would inevitably lead toward violence, Luke knew. He stood at the mouth of the cave with Nuron, having just arrived, and they could both sense the helpless anger that flashed through Frek Nessel's awareness like a thunderstorm. The mercenary, despite his tough demeanour and looks, had not yet grown used to the savagery which had taken place on this world, which, Luke found, was astounding enough. But the Jedi Master was careful not to voice his opinion aloud, as long as Nessel was with them. 

Doctor Pawal had already left the site again, taking with him three bodies he intended to examine more closely, to determine their age and the cause of their death. That was not easily to be determined, as Luke had noted with great relief. Beside him, Nuron Sarin-Skywalker was a torch of grim outrage. A mother of two delightful children, she found it hard to understand the cruelty of butchering innocents like that. And her husband knew that it only cemented her opinion concerning Roj Kell, who had caused all this. Strange, wasn't it, that the woman, who over twenty years ago had followed the ancient Sith Lord's lessons in blind worship, had now taken such a strong stance against him. But then, she had grown up, and grown up to fill her new role completely. As mother, and as guardian.

Luke watched her turn her head to face him, her golden eyes reflecting her every emotion, as they always did. Right now they were very similar to what Frek Nessel was feeling. Suddenly, though, she gave a curt nod and said, "Let's go inside." Without waiting for him to reply she stepped into the rank cave, gingerly walking across this graveyard, careful to avoid touching any of the bodies. Luke followed her wordlessly, not even bothering to invite Nessel to come along. Only when the couple reached a turn in the tunnel carved into the rock did he look around. Nessel was still standing where they had left him, backlit now by the blue, blue sky above Nzoth. And then the cave wall hid him from view, and Luke almost stumbled in the dark. The gloom was broken abruptly by a torchlight, which Nuron had activated to illuminate the way. More bodies had been piled up here, making traversing the underground uncomfortable and very, very somber. It was like walking _through_ a grave. And then Luke felt something a head, like a vast emptiness, and a moment later the beam of Nuron's torch cut across endless shadows, as they entered a large, and above all silent cavern. It was as if the mountain itself held its breath here. Nuron hesitantly walked deeper into the giant cave, the torchlight's searching beam more frantic now. 

"Hold!" Luke called out, his eyes narrowing. His right hand pointed to the left, where he had been able to make out something, as the light flickered across the rough walls. "Over there." He hurried across the rocky floor of the cavern, suddenly very focused. "We need more light."

There was a sigh from Nuron's direction, before she answered, wrily, "Well, too bad Andarack's not with us." But a moment later the cave filled with a faint, yellow glow that grew in intensity the closer she came to the wall Luke had indicated. Letters had been scrawled over the rock there, huge, jagged letters that were all too familiar. Sith script. Luke stood, at stunned at first, because the writings were so large. But then, standing back a little, he squinted at the words, trying to make out their meaning. It was Nuron, who decyphered them first.

"The flow of events follows the current of life into death and beyond," she translated, her tone somber. "What was taken shall be returned, what was given shall not be reclaimed, what was broken will not be mended." He heard a disgusted grunt from his wife, before she spat, "This is nonsense. Sentimental drivel, nothing else."

"Wasn't it you, my love, who claimed that dear Kell never did anything unintentionally? This is a message," the Jedi Master countered sweetly.

"And what message would that be?" she snarled, audibly riled. 

He stepped closer, running his hand over the lowest tip of one of the first letters. "It is written in blood, I think," he stated suddenly, and frowned.

"Oh, that is just wonderful! So tasteful!" Nuron joined him briskly, and her forehead wrinkled around her horns menacingly. "So, what do you make of it?"

But he wasn't really listening. "Is this all, do you think?" Luke looked around, glancing at the other parts of the cave. "There's more. Look!"

"You're right," she conceded between gritted teeth, when he hurried over to the next section.

Gripped by sudden excitement, the Jedi Master hurriedly explained, "We must write all of it down, then bring it into the right order. This might be an explanation for why he did this."

"But we know why," Nuron insisted. "He wanted to funnel their life-power into Laa'kuan and use it against the Yuuzhan Vong."

Luke gave her a long look. "That's what he said, yes," he conceded at last. "But Father used the maze without killing thousands of people. Never trust anything Kell says, remember?"

"Then taking down these writings will be a futiel endeavour don't you think?" she retorted icily. 

"I do not believe so," Luke answered. "No," he breathed, "this is different. I can feel it. This is a message. Come!" he added almost cheerfully. "Let's get going."

Hours later the cavern was lit by a number of floodlights, which had been hastily erected by Doctor Pawal's taem once Luke and Nuron had gotten back to them with news of their discovery. Even Frek Nessel had been reasonably excited about that find. But now silence reigned, the gloomy setting having smothered all enthusiasm. Both Nuron and Luke were wandering along the walls, taking down notes and translating at the same time. Almost all of the walls featured script, sometimes a single word, sometimes entire paragraphs of writing, which seemed to have been applied randomly. The size of the letters puzzled Luke, and he was wondering hard how Kell had managed to write even on the ceiling. The late Sith Lord had been a tall man, but not _that_ tall. 

Doctor Pawal had set up station in the center of the cavern, almost completely hidden by what looked to be a portable laboratory. "Have you found something yet?" Luke asked, as he sauntered past, on his way to where his compad sat atop a smaller boulder. 

"Well," Pawal replied, holding up a vial filled with a reddish liquid. "This is not Yevethan blood." For a moment Luke had to sort out his fluttering mind, dread overcoming his senses as he wondered how many _other_ species Kell might have slaughtered. But then Pawal, directing a questioning frown at the Jedi Master, continued, "This is of human origins, actually. Do you think that perhaps our Sith friend sacrificed his own blood for this message?"

Luke paused, considering what he knew of the Cor'dan and their belief in balance. Of course, Kell would have had to give up more than just a few drops of blood to balance the deaths he had caused here, not to mention the amount needed to write all these words. But then, he had atoned for this massacre when he had let himself die, quite painfully too. Had he sought to atone in part for his crimes here, with this message? Luke doubted it somehow. "We are still trying to bring order into this chaos," he ventured at last, a hand vaguely indicating the walls. 

Pawal nodded, then turned away to resume his tests, or whatever it was he was doing there. Luke waited another heart-beat, before he walked over to the compad and typed in the next section of script he had taken down.

So far the message read: "The flow of events follows the current of life into death and beyond. What was taken shall be returned, what was given shall not be reclaimed, what was broken will not be mended. Balance is a matter of give and take, and life punishes those who take too much, even their own lives, for we are one, all of us, and responsible for life as well as death. To bring light into darkness, and darkness into light, is to achieve balance, just as bringing life into death and death into life is balance."

Into the mangled sentences single words like "Duty", "Dedication" and "Patience" had been strewn, and Luke almost got the impression that Kell had simply been taking notes on whatever had crossed his mind. As if he had been trying to find an answer to some great riddle, a philosophical and ethical debate for one participant, of sorts. It had been here, Luke knew, that the ancient Sith Lord had decided on the manner and time of his own death, weighing future against past. _What was taken shall be returned_. When he had died the passing of his presence had not even registered with Luke, who had witnessed that gruesome death personally. And the Jedi Master had felt many a death over the years, including that of Master Yoda, who had been one of the most powerful Force-users of his time. Not as powerful, he knew now, as his father, or Kell himself. There had been something about the ancient Sith, a connection to the Force that went beyond what the Jedi Order had ever achieved. Where the Jedi tapped into the Force from the outside, in a manner of speaking, Kell had been born _of_ the Force, which was why his presence had simply sunken back into that great flow when he had died, with no distance to cross between life and death.

Blue eyes playing thoughtfully across the screen in front of him. Luke shook himself out of his reverie again and typed: "Justice is a matter of perspective, when all you can rely on is yourself. Sacrifices are made to ensure the future, and weakness must be countered with strength, even if that prowess is only of short endurance."

"I have another one," Nuron said, coming up beside him.

He gave a weary nod. "Go on, then."

  
"Very well," his wife began, clearing her throat meaningfully, "These creatures are beneath me, as bad as the Ju Vong in their stupid little world of death. And they will challenge the stars too, if given leave. Will the stars be able to thwart the attack, so soon after this invasion? I doubt it. Better to take their life now than have them take the lives of those around them. Life means nothing to these creatures, and it means everything to me."  


"That's as good as a confession," Luke commented, startled. 

"Only, this is no court, it is a graveyard," the Zabrak retorted instantly. She made an impatient gesture. "I believe that he saw the Yevetha in the same light he saw the Yuuzhan Vong, but I do not understand how he could forgive one people, but not the other. He could have wiped them out as easily as he killed these people here. But he didn't. This makes no sense. What does this have to do with justice? Even if it is a subjective justice."

Luke gave this some thought, before he answered, "Perhaps he thought the Yuuzhan Vong capable of redemption, but not the Yevetha." His forehead creased into a frown. "Balance," he whispered. "Balance is always the key. And survival." When revelation came at last he uttered a faint gasp and sat back on his haunches, his mind blank. Blue eyes twin pools of pain and sadness, the Jedi Master gazed up at his wife. "He made his choices," he explained hoarsely. "For us, for the Yuuzhan Vong. He drew the lines for the future before we even knew tht there was a threat to that future. That was why they had to die. So one future could come to pass, but not another."

"That bastard! Always meddling in other people's lives!" 

It was real, righteous anger he could see in Nuron's features, and he knew he should be feeling the same. But he did not. Helplessly, he wondered why. How did this apply to himself? To his father, to his sister, even? Who were they responsible to? The New Republic? The Council of Naboo? Life? He had no answer to that. Yet. But could he decide over life and death and still claim to serve life exclusively? If he were true to the Jedi creed, he would never ever allow the murder of innocents, yet at the same time he would also be obliged to spare the lives of those who acted aggressively, should that be at all possible. His father, he knew, followed another path. Anakin Skywalker had been a Jedi, a Sith, and Cor'dan. And he had once told his son something that was typical of him. _Life is what you make of it_. It was the Cor'dan speaking there, claiming that decisions sparked responsibility, and actions led to consequences. Either one, responsibility and consequences, had to be shouldered exclusively by the instigator. It was not a measure of courage or daring either, Luke understood. It was a simple fact. You did something wrong, you paid. You did something right, you moved on. 

Who though, did define what was wrong and what was right?

In one of their last conversations, before he had been savagely slain, Kell had told Luke, twenty years younger then, that greatness was in one's ideals, and subsequently in one's actions. It did not matter if those were grand deeds or small accomplishments. What mattered, according to Kell, was what's inside one's head. Responsibility again.

As self-proclaimed guardian of life, did his responsibility and duty toward life also encompass protecting life from the living? If, as Roj Kell claimed, the Yevetha had lived for death, did they deserve to die in truth? The ancient Sith had had very distinctive views on that, views that Anakin Skywalker had adopted too. It was foolish to try and counter life's uncertainties by holding on to the certainty of death, as laid down in strict rules ad regulations of Yevethan and, also, Yuuzhan Vong society. Life was not to be determined by death, since death was part of life anyway. It was life that gave value to existence. Never death. The distinction between Yevetha and Yuuzhan Vong had to be this then: Where the Yevetha had valued death exclusively, the Yuuzhan Vong believed their sacrificial deaths to repay the gods for creating life in the first place. It was a concept of give and take that came close to the one promoted by Kell himself. Balance as the key to life. And that was why these people here had had to die, he thought. Luke shuddered ever so slightly. Not something he could ever have shouldered the responsibility for, nor would he have wanted to. 

His path was different.

TBC


	9. Forebodings

****

Padmé Naberrie Skywalker stood with her hands resting on the stone railing to her bedroom's balcony, overlooking the lake and the mountains surrounding it. The air was still warm, yet a cool breeze drifted over from the water, making her shiver ever so slightly. It was peaceful tonight, with hardly a noise to break the silence. Jain and Jacen were in Theed, with their mother, and undoubtedly both Leia and Al'than'erudo were doing their best to make the twins experts on Bakura's history and current position in no time. Their week was running up fast. Amerie, her little granddaughter, was asleep in her grandparent's bedroom, and Anakin was in his own study, talking politics with Tomas Piett and Mith'raw'noruodo. The two councillors had arrived this afternoon, claiming to only have come for a courtesy visit, but Padmé knew better than to question their real motives. The Chiss in particular had made it clear that he would prefer to speak with her husband only, and the former senator suspected that the three men were talking about strategic matters. What for, she was wondering hard just now. 

Al'than'erudo had informed her of Naas Deron's message, and she had drawn similar conclusions as the Council had. When he had confided in her that he had sent her son-in-law to summon Luke to be the guardian the Cor'dan had requested, Padmé had balked at the mere thought. She knew her son well enough to know that the innocence and compassion he had retained all through the years would confound him in a confrontation with the former Sith Lord. Naas Deron was cold, colder even than his predecessor had ever been. He thought nothing of sacrifing a life, she knew, contrary to Anakin, who at least had the dignity to feel guilty and ashamed about any such sacrifice he was forced to make. No more, luckily. But why had Tomas and Thrawn insisted on talking to him now? It could only mean that they anticipated another conflict, another confrontation. Knowing the three warriors, Padmé assumed that they would prefer to plot a non-violent response with a violent back-up plan, contrary to using full force from the beginning. All three were brilliant in their own way, with Tomas both a military man and politician, Thrawn the strategic genius and Anakin the former Cor'dan, who knew far more of what was going on even now than he ever let on. Officially the Council of Naboo would handle the execution of whatever plan that trio came up with, but Padmé wondered whether Al'than'erudo's move to involve the Skywalker family so deeply did not have motives other than their expertise.

To her credit, she did not put any blame on the Chiss. Yet. She simply assumed that he made the choices he believed necessary, trusting in her family to weather whatever crisis might be sparked from that decision. But what choices were those? Was her family in danger? Was that why Al'than'erudo was secretly moving a veteran choice of agents into position as some sort of safety netting? He had sent Han to summon Luke, and deemed Jaina and Jacen investigators in a crime that had not been committed yet, as far as she could tell. There had been no terrorist acts on Bakura, only rumours of seome being in planning. It was very strange, and Padmé had no clue how Luzaya Dan, Royal Heir of the Sith Empire and aspiring Cor'dan, fit into that picture at all. The princess would be arriving today, she knew, and Padmé had invited her to stay at Varykino, as her guest. As far as she knew, Luzaya had accepted. Did the princess realize the implication sof her choice, of her not staying in the Royal Palace in Theed, but instead visiting with the former Council Leader and former Cor'dan? Perhaps the princess' choice had been wholly innocent, since Padmé and Anakin were good friends of her parents, and Anakin was her godfather, even. And then Padmé thought of who was accompanying Luzaya. Over the past twenty years Andarack clan Rim'kai had done his best to become as accomplished a leader as his grand-uncle, Chi'in. Andarack was a warrior at heart, cunning and decisive. He was a politician with the wits to match his insight. And he was playing on two levels simultaneously, being part of the Council's network of agents as much as being a citizen of the Sith Empire. 

There were not many Sith Lords left. Anakin had resigned his post as Dark Lord to Chi'in, when he had taken full responsibility as Cor'dan, and then, when he had stepped down in favour of his apprentice, Naas Deron, and Chi'in had abdicated as Dark Lord without naming a successor, only Deron had been left, and Andarack. Of course, the Empress herself was Sith too, but she was more politician that that, Padmé always thought. Gifted only with very little Force potential the daughter of Darth Sidious had grown powerful mostly due to the help and advise given by her husband, Franzis Sarreti. Most people, though, made the grave mistake of believing the former Imperial assassin to be the more dangerous and more powerful of the Royal Couple. Franzis was head administrator ad seemed to run the Empire, but Padmé knew, as did a few select friends and allies, that he would never go contrary to Yana's wishes. And Yana, despite her seeming to defer often to her husband, always made her own choices. It had been her who had decided to strengthen the Empire's ties with the Chiss, instead of building a deeper relationship with the New Republic. A union of strength, the Chiss Emperor Ja'han'mandana had called the treaty of alliance he had signed along with the Empress, and Padmé knew exactly what that meant. 

The New Republic was the only democracy of military significance among the nations were represented in the Council of Naboo. The Corporate Sector was lawless, and the Confederate Zone, though a democracy too, was too weak, and neutral besides, to count as a major military power. The Star Alliance, a loose formation of peoples residing in the Unknown Regions, rarely bothered with what went on beyond its borders, and the Hutts were similarily indifferent to the rest of the galaxy, as long as the trade lanes were working. This left exactly three nations, and of those only one ws a democracy. The New Republic also had signed treaties of allegiance with the Chiss Empire, but only concerning military matters, whereas the Sith Empire held the economical privilege with the Chiss. And money, Padmé knew, was sometimes the more important incentive. Most of the time, actually. All nations functioned, but among the three major powers the New Republic was the most difficult to deal with, exactly because its government had to accomodate so many interests on a democratic basis. Which meant that when it came down to making decisions among allies, the Chiss and the Sith Empire had the advantage over the New Republic. With two decisive leaders who ruled absolute, they could move virtually at a moment's notice. And that was exactly what the New Republic feared would happen soon. 

Mon Mothma, as the Republic's representative, tried to wrap her government's views into diplomatic phrases whenever there was another complaint about trade opportunities in the Chiss Empire being cornered by the Sith Empire, but the gist was plain enough. Even twenty years after war's end the Sith and the Yuuzhan Vong had failed to earn the Republic's trust. The new Chief of State, a Bothan by the name of Borsk Fey'lya, and his Minister of State, former General Seelac, both were known for their hostile stance toward the daughter of the late Emperor Papatine. They would leap at any opportunity to paint Yana Dar a tyrant and see her deposed, and with the recent attack on her husband's life, the temperamental Empress would be hard-pressed to remain aloof. 

There was the click of the balcony door opening behind her, and Padmé gave a start, her train of thought interrupted so unexpectedly. Turning around, she gave the woman standing in the doorway a questioning frown. "Yes, Anja, what is it?" she asked.

Anja Dumilor, who had been her secretary when she had still been member of the New Republic government, flashed a smile. "Jacen and Jaina have announced her impending arrival. They are bringing the princess with them."

For a moment Padmé was confused. "You are referring to my daughter, or to Luzaya Dan?"

"Luzaya Dan, of course. Leia, I believe, has urgent business to discuss with Mon Mothma and Al'than'erudo."

"Ah, of course," the older woman conceded, smiling in relief. "I remember now. Please let me know when they arrive. I will see if I can rouse my dear husband to take over his duties as the princess' host."

Anja nodded. "I believe he is waiting for you in the dining room."

"Then his guests have left already?" 

"Yes."

"Oh." Padmé paused, uncertain. "Good," she ventured a last. "Thank you, Anja. Is Amerie still asleep?"

"Fast asleep."

"That's a blessing, at least," she sighed, then joined Anja by the door. There was a lot to prepare yet for their guest's arrival, and things would go far more easy without Amerie hanging on to her all the time.

Steering the small speeder, which belonged to his grandfather and was curiously painted silver, Jacen Solo felt slightly uncomfortable with the awkward silence that permeated the vehicle. Jaina had taken the back-seat together with Luzaya, and one would have expected the two girl to chat non-stop, after all the time the friends had not seen one another. But there had been only a few polite words exchanged, a few boring questions, and then they had settled quietly into their seats, seemingly at a loss of what to say. It made Jacen itch, frantically wracking his brain for something, a past adventure they had shared and that he could bring up, but Jaina had already exhausted that repertoire with one single question that had sounded less than half-hearted. And the young Jedi had to admit to himself that he found Luzaya Dan's presence highly distracting too. When he had first seen her, presented to the council in an informal meeting in the Palace of Theed, he had been awe-struck by how beautiful she had grown. Somehow he had never seemed to have noticed beforem, but in comparison to his sister, the princess truly was a grown woman. Dressed in a modestly cut dress of pale blue, Luzaya had appeared before the assembled counselors every inch a lady. And her almost fragile appearance had only been emphasized by the presence of her two companions. 

One, Andarack clan Rim'kai, had remained in Theed to give a report to Al'than'erudo, and Jacen was actually relieved at that. He loved Chi'in like family, but Andarack had always remained aloof from the Skywalker family. One never could be sure what was going on behind those black eyes of his either. He was secretive, and did not bother to hide that fact. Nevertheless, that left Luzaya's other bodyguard to sit beside Jacen, and, truth be told, he was making him almost as nervous as Luzaya and the sweet smell of her perfume, that filled the speeder almost completely. The bodyguard had been introduced as Mahel Sivaraya, a Yuuzhan Vong who towered over the Solo twins and everyone else present. Clad in his people's traditional armor, Mahel was a silent shadow at the princess' back, and so far he had not said one single word. Jacen briefly wondered whether perhaps he could not speak Basic at all. But, to the young man's great surprise, it appeared that the Yuuzhan Vong's tongue had been stilled by the same awkward feelings he himself was experiencing, for when they left the hill country to enter the mountains, Mahel turned his head carefully to look at Jacen and asked, "You do know that the princess is apprentice to the Cor'dan?"

Confused for a moment as to what the Yuuzhan Vong was aiming at, the younger Solo replied, "Of course I do. She told us herself, when she began, two years ago. She seemed pretty excited about it." He thought he saw Mahel smile at that. "Why are you asking?"

"Well, it might be an opportunity to discover what your friend has learned. She told me you three had been friends for a very long time. But a silence between friends does feel different from what I can gather here."

"Oh." Jacen was genuinely baffled by this sincere observation, and suppressed the impulse of looking into the rear-mirror to see whether the girls had heard the warrior. They had.

"Sometimes friends become estranged from one another," Luzaya explained gently, leaning forward between the two front seats, her right hand resting lightly on her bodyguard's shoulder. It was that gesture that drove an unexpected spike of disappointment through Jacen's heart. She was awfully friendly with Mahel, was she not? And her perfume, heavy around them, threatened to shut down the last of his working synapses. But then she looked at him, her pale blue eyes dazzling him as she smiled. "Yet I must ask your forgiveness too, for I was preoccupied by disturbing thoughts. My father – "

"Is he all right?" Jaina piped up, her face appearing alongside that of Luzaya Dan, her brown eyes worried. "Someone tried to kill him, didn't they?"

"Twice," Luzaya reported softly. "They failed both times, thanks to the Cor'dan's interference. But the first attack was hard on both my parents."

Jacen briefly wondered whether the sudden confidence she set in her old-time and ‚estranged' friends was a calculated move to put them at ease, and then realized that any such action only served to ptove the princess' maturity in comparison to the twins. Blushing at the thought, he concentrated on the road ahead again. "And," he began at length, "you get along well with your teacher"

There was a soft laugh from behind, and he heard Luzaya shake her head, her wavy hair brushing lightly over her shoulders. "Oh, we do have our differences," she told them lightly. "Sometimes more, sometimes less. As for getting along well, I suppose we do not have common feelings."

That last sentence had sounded somehow sad, full of regrets, and Jacen realized that there was more to her words than she had said. "Why?" he felt prompted to ask, feeling stubborn when Jaina tried to shush him into silence with an afronted expression on her face and a shake of her head. For a moment there was silence again, and Jacen stole a glance at Mahel, who was gazing at him blandly. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked miserably.

"No, no," Luzaya hurried to assure him. "We are still friends, and my friends can never ask the wrong questions. It is just – that matters of the heart are painful to speak about."

"You are in love with him, but he does not answer your feelings?" Jaina asked bluntly, and Jacen wanted to hit her for that comment. But, half-turned toward the back-seat, he had the opportunity to see Mahel's features close down suspiciously. 

Then Luzaya answered, softly, "He does not deserve my love. I know that now." There was a thoughtful pause. "And we shall see whether he will continue to teach me at all, once I return home."

Somehow that last statement signalled the end of that particular strand of conversation, and Jain immediately took up a story about Varykino, and how it had come into her family's possession. And, once more, Jacen felt incredibly immature and clumsy.

While her mouth chatted about meaningless, polite things, Jaina tried to discern Luzaya's words more closely. She could sense that the princess was in distress over her mentor's rejection of her feelings, and yet there was also something, a warm spot that Luzaya had reserved for Naas Deron. She was in love, unhappily so, and somehow Jaina found this fact very touching indeed. It reminded her of all the cheesy holo-novels she had watched almost nonstop at age sixteen, in her most romantic phase, as she referred to that period. Of course she hoped to fall in love some day too, and hoped for someone to fall in love with her, but she was less excited about the prospect now than two years ago. Her childish infatuation with the handsome Chiss Al'than'erudo was more annoyance to her than a real opportunity, not only because of their difference in age. He was someone to dream about, but nothing serious. And yet, here was a girl, barely two years older than her, who seemingly had thought nothing of falling in love with a man twenty years her senior. Naas Deron was in his late fifties now, and though Jaina knew he did not look his age, she was still conscious of it. How could Luzaya make such a choice? Was it the relationship between them, as teacher and student? She wished she could ask more, but somehow she thought that the princess would not appreciate more questions on the subject. 

"My mother claims your parents sent you to Naboo for security reasons," she suggested, keeping a careful eye on the woman beside her. "Do they fear that someone will try to assassinate you too?"

"I suppose so," Luzaya shrugged, but Jaina caught the uncertain flick of her eyes toward Mahel, and mentally punched her fist into the air. So there was more to this visit after all! "The situation within the Empire is somewhat tense," the princess reported. "But my father will deal with that once he is sufficiently recovered."

When Jaina opened her mouth to ask about what Luzaya's mother was planning to do Jacen, never someone to let go easily of a topic, asked Mahel, "And what about you? Do you have someone too?" Jaina closed her eyes, embarrassed, and yet acutely aware of the tone of voice her brother had used, and that betrayed his own feelings on the matter, feelings he shared with his sister. She almost feared that Mahel woudl be offended, but was pleasantly surprised.

Again the Yuuzhan Vong proved extraordinary insight when he replied, "It is hard to find someone when everyone around you wants to protect you." Luzaya, beside Jaina, gave a thoughtful nod in response. "Of course, it is also hard to find someone when one is not trusted," Mahel added, a mirthless smile flashing across his alien features.

"Mahel!" the princess chided her bodyguard playfully. "I do trust you, you know that."  


"Yes, Highness, I know," he replied, resigned, then gazed out of the window, signalling the end of his part in the conversaiton. 

Jaina threw Luzaya a questioning glance, and the other woman shrugged, before she leaned closer to explain, "Mahel was cast out by his domain when he chose to adopt the Cor'dan's teachings of balance. It pains him, though he does not say so, to be rejected by his own family and people."

"Oh. Is that why his face is not – why he does not wear honorary scars?" Jaina asked.

"Yes. He says he has chosen a different path. But he does honor his ancestors' way of life too. He is a good bodyguard and companion," she added fondly. 

"But not Deron?" Jaina mouthed at her, brows arched meaningfully. She was certain neither Mahel nor Jacen had heard her words, but nevertheless Luzaya trhew a quick glance up front, before she leaned closer still, until her mouth was almost touching Jaina's ear. 

"It is more complicated than that," the princess confided in her. "Deron is my lover, and Mahel hopes to take his place, I know. He loves me. But - " She let the word hang, and Jaina understood her dilemma. Setting aside her shock over hearing that Luzaya was actually the Cor'dan's mate, she gathered that Luzaya was unhappy over Deron's lack of feelings toward her, and that at the same time she was taken in by Mahel's devotion, though she could not answer his feelings. To have two men, one you loved but who did not love you back, and one who adored you, but who you could find no feelings for – it had to be strange, and thrilling. 

Jaina wished she were in Luzaya's place.

"Of course we are aware of the graveness of the situation." Leia Organa Solo's voice was measured and calm, a diplomat's voice, as Al'than'erudo knew very well. And he knew enough not to fall for her seeming understanding of his own situation. She was representative of the New Republic, just as the other woman in the room, Mon Mothma. The princess looked beautiful, as always, and the years had been kind to her too. "Ambassador Beryd has assured us that the Imperial government is doing everything it can to discover who tried to kill Franzis Sarreti. She also mentioned that there seems to be a growing rift between the Cor'dan and the traditional Yuuzhan Vong sects. I wonder if there might be a conflict in the makings there?"

She did not know, of course, what message the Cor'dan had sent to the Council, and Al'than'erudo was certain that her father would not tell her either. No one must know that the former Dark Lord and Cor'dan still had a hand in the Naboo Council's decisions. Not even his own children. They suspected, of course, but as long as he did not admit to anything, they would not mention this particular issue either. The Head of the Council nodded solemnly at the two human females sitting across from him before he said, "Naas Deron is capable of looking after himself, and he would not dare upset the sects too much. What we should be discussing, though, is the New Republic's stance toward the princess' presence on Naboo. Andarack told me there was an incident on a Republic world? Certainly not the best way to make a prospective ally feel welcome." The Chiss shot the Noghri seated a bit apart from the women a warning glance. If Andarack dared say anything now .... Or Mon Mothma, for that matter.

"As far as I know the princess has chosen a path different from her mother's. She does not wish to rule," Leia replied coolly.

"Neverthless, the Cor'dan is powerful. I do happen to know that the New Republic never made any overtures of approaching Naas Deron because of his past as Sith warrior. Luzaya Dan carries no such burdens."

"She is Deron's student," the princess reminded him then.

Al'than'erudo smiled his best smile. "And her own woman. I believe she is much the same you were at her age, though she has begun her training much later than you did, of course. Her willingness to come here as her mother's representative is certainly promising."

"Really?" Leia arched her brows doubtfully. "Are you so sure it was the princess' own decision? I would rather suspect that Yana sent her here for protection."

A clever woman, no doubt. But Al'than'erudo was prepared for that answer, thanks to Andarack. "I think that port incident on one of your backwater worlds proves that the princess is far from safe away from Byss. She and her mother both are taking a great risk, and you know it. Perhaps you should consider meeting with her?"

"And just what are you hoping to accomplish by setting up such a meeting?" the princess asked, sounding angry all of a sudden. "I find this all a bit too coincidental. You lure me here by informing me that you are sending my children on a mission to Bakura. Once I am safely arrived you tell me that – didn't I know – Her Royal Highness Luzaya Dan is visiting too. Supposedly to refresh her ties to old friends. Am I to believe this? Do you truly expect that of me? I know you, Al'than'erudo, forgive me for being so blunt. What is it you really want of the New Republic?"

"Well." Clearing his throat, Al'than'erudo was uncomfortably aware of how much the princess reminded him of her father just then. Her mother, he knew, never was this direct. "Of course I do not mean to deceive you. All I have told you is the truth. I would not lie to you, I hope you know that." Strictly speaking, it really was the truth. From a certain point of view. "Fact is, though, that we must think beyond immediate problems. The attacks on the Royal Consort may well precede attacks on the Empress herself. Yana Dar is a far-sighted woman, who certainly had her reasons when she made her daughter her ambassador on this mission. And the Cor'dan must be in agreement with the empress. Remember that he knows Luzaya's future. This may well mean that she will end up ruling the Empire after all. I remember that your mother herself approached Yana Dar once it became clear that she might become an ally, even though at that time it appeared that she would be no more than a puppet-empress."

"Then you are telling met that you are already planning for the eventuality of Yana Dar's demise? Is that it?" Leia was outraged. "You should be assisting the Empire in uncovering whoever is responsible for these threats! _That_ is your duty!"

Al'than'erudo permitted hismelf a tiny smile, but kept his features unchanged, apart from that. No need to let her know that now he had her exactly where he wanted her. He shrugged. "Princess, we both know that the New Republic would not look kindly upon any interference on our part – "

"You have enough resources to keep your hand hidden," the princess interrupted him, her amber eyes narrowing. "I will personally assure Luzaya Dan of my support, should it be necessary, but I cannot tell her that the New Republic will aid her mother, if it comes to that."

"I could not ask for more," Al'than'erudo replied graciously. "Perhaps, though, you could use your formidable diplomatic skills and reputation to garner support for Luzaya Dan in the New Republic government?"

Organa Solo was silent for a long time, staring at him as she worked through just what he was saying. Her eyes flicked over to look at Andarack, then shifted to Mon Mothma. "I see," she announced at last. "You are already trying to draw out whoever is repsonsible for the attacks on Franzis' life. And now you wnat me to encourage them by approving of Luzaya as Yana's successor? What's in it for you? And her, for that matter. President Fey'lya is no friend of the empire and certainly no admirer of Yana Dar. My words will fall on deaf ears."

"That I dispute," Mon Mothma said then, her voice quiet. "Leia, there is a chance that whoever is conspiring against Yana may have allies within the New Republic. Those allies certainly will listen. Luzaya is young and a novice to politics. Should she gain the throne she will need much guidance. It is a matter of who she chooses as mentor, a matter of how the New Republic wants the Sith Empire to be ruled in the future. Do they want it to remain independent, or do they want to bind it closer to the Republic itself?"

"Or destroy it. Is that what you are saying?" Leia asked. "Then Yana has sent her daughter to Naboo to choose her mentors here, and to learn from the best. I admit the choice is excellent. And there are so many reasons she could have been sent here for, it will certainly confuse her enemies. A masterpiece. And yet," she added, looking at Andarack again, "I have a feeling you have not told me everything. For instance, why you sent my husband on a mission, and where to?"

"That is Council business, and does not affect the New Republic," Al'than'erudo countered. She really did not need to know what Naas Deron had told them, it would only distress her. Not to mention President Fey'lya. He glanced toward the viewport and rose, signalling the end of the conversation. "It is getting late, and you will be wanting to see your family, I suppose. If you wish, we can continue tomorrow."

"I will inform you of my wishes in due time," Leia replied, and smiled. "And I indeed wish to see my family. I will see you all tomorrow, I presume. Have a good night, all of you." Nodding her good-byes at Mon Mothma and Andarack she left, and the door closed behind her noiselessly.

"She is suspecting more than she should," Andarack observed correctly, his tone very dry.

"Of course she does. I would not expect anything less," Mon Motham replied.

Al'than'erudo shook his head. "We have done all we could for now. Let's see what our three strategists have cooked up tomorrow, then we can continue. Good night."

Once he was alone, the Chiss turned toward the viewport, hands clasped behind his back. There was so much at stake, more than the future of the Sith Empire. And yet he felt confident that he had entrusted the right people with his confidence. They had achieved so much already, and they certainly would manage this upcoming crisis too. The only unpredictable element in this scheme was, as always the Cor'dan. But with Luke Skywalker hopefully keeping an eye on the headstrong Naas Deron, all would be well. Hopefully.

Padmé Naberrie Skywalker threw one last critical glance at her image in the mirror. She looked more regal, she thought, but also softer than she had while being the reigning queen or the senator of Naboo. She had grown older, of course, yet her own vanity had refused to let her hair grow white over the years. She dyed it regularly now, to retain the lush dark brown of her youth. Smiling at this little indulgence of her own pride, Padmé raised a hand to pat the long tresses curling down over her shoulders. She wore a blue dress, sensibly simple, but elegant enough to please her own eye. After all, she would be receiving a royal princess tonight, and a friend's daughter at that. Luzaya, she suspected, would be just as nervous about this reunion as she herself felt right now. All right. Everything was as good as it ever would be. Time to prepare the welcome for her guest. Leaving her dressing room, Padmé frowned when she did not find Anakin in their bedroom. He had been there only a few moments ago.

"Anakin?" There was no answer. A bit disturbed by his sudden disappearance, Padmé walked out onto the terrasse, where she indeed found her husband looking off across the lake. "What are you doing out here?" she asked, noting with some relief that he had changed already and now wore a dark blue shirt and trousers instead of the coverall she had seen him wear before his meeting with Mith'raw'noruodo and Tomas Piett earlier today. "Is something wong?"

He turned to look at her, and a smile appeared on his face. "No, I am quite all right," he explained. "I just needed some fresh air – to think."

"What about?"

"Naming Day," he replied ruefully. "I believe Luzaya will want to know something of her future."

Padmé smiled. "And I would very much like to know what you have had to discuss with Thrawn and Tomas. But I suppose I will not be granted that wish. So, what are you going to tell her?"

He gazed at her, seemingly surprised. "Are you angry with me for my keeping secrets, then?"

"No secrets between us, you promised," she replied then, stepping closer to wrap her arms around his waist. "Do you remember? When we were returning from Korriban aboard the Wilde Karrde ..."

"I remember." His voice was low, thoughtful. "And I will tell you. Just not now."

"Oh, you!" Her fist connceted with his chest heavily. "Liar!" He had the gall to laugh at her! 

"Ah, but you know me, my love, I am a man of many secrets."

"You will tell me after tonight," she told him haughtily, before she whirled around to leave. Luzaya and the twins would be arriving any moment now. She had to remember her duties as host, even if her husband would not. Storming into the hallway outside her chambers she almost collided with Anja. "Oh!" Padmé exclaimed. "Are they here already?"

"Yes. I went to fetch you. Amerie is currently entertaining our guests," Anja added, smiling. "Of course, she is embarrassing her cousins immensely, and Jacen is too shy to take the initiative."

"What about Jaina, then?" Padmé asked, amused.

"She is sulking. Don't ask me why. Oh, and Leia will be joining us too. She's on her way."

Rolling her eyes in fake exasperation, Padmé made her way to the living-room, Anja on her heels. Indeed, her little grand-daughter was in her element, dancing and humming under her breath in front of a rapt audience. The twins, Padmé noticed, shared embarrassed smiles now and then, while Luzaya sat in her chair as if she were attending a concert on Coruscant. Her companion, by contrast, was staring wide-eyed at the little girl, his jaw hanging open. Padmé studied the Yuuzhan Vong warrior for a moment longer, before she entered the room and swept toward Luzaya, her face beaming. 

"Child, you look beautiful!" she declared, bearing down on the princess swiftly. Luzaya rose politely and returned Padmé's hug a little rigidly.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Padmé," she answered calmly, her voice so very mature. A bit bewildered she looked over her host's shoulder. "And my dear god-father? Is he here?"

"He is. He'll be along shortly. I believe he wasn't yet finished dressing when I left."

Luzaya smiled. "Then I will have to introduce my companion to you first. This is Mahel Sivaraya, my bodyguard," she explained, indicating the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. "Mahel, this is Padmé Naberrie Skywalker, a good friend of my family, my god-father's wife."

"I am honored," Sivaraya murmured softly and inclined his head. 

He was very tall, Padmé thought, and looked almost haggard, but then, as far as she knew that was pretty normal for a Yuuzhan Vong. For some reason a certain portrait that hung in the hallway flashed in her mind and she remembered Roj Kell's contempt for these aliens most vividly. Ju Vong, little slaves, he had called them. They were still something of second-class citizens in the new Sith Empire, as far as Padmé knew. And yet, when Mahel straightened again to look her in the eye, she found that he was fairly brimming with confidence. Anakin chose exactly that moment to enter, his vibrant presence banishing all awkwardness as he spread his arms and grinned at Luzaya Dan. 

"Luzaya! It is so good to have you here!"

The princess rushed over to embrace him, her face beaming. "Very good, yes," she conceded, smiling, and squeezed Anakin tightly before she let go again to give him an appraising look. "You and Padmé have barely aged a day since I last saw you," she announced then, to Jacen and Jaina's obvious amusement. Padmé simply stood by, one hand put on Amerie's head. "I want to know everything you've been up to these past two years," Luzaya continued, whirling around gracefully to include the rest of the family in her smiling countenance. "I feel I've missed so much!"

As it was, she ended up telling nore of her own life on Byss than she had anticipated. Anakin practically squeezed her memory dry, asking question after question, about her parents, about the sects, about Deron and about her studies. Padmé saw Jacen's jaw drop and Jain shake her head in disbelief when Luzaya explained the Nargana Dey ritual that she had used to gain Deron's attention. Anakin merely grinned at the details. A little later Leia joined them, and the topic shifted to new Republic policies and general gossip from Coruscant, which seemed to interest Luzaya immensely. And then, as dinner was prepared and Padmé went to put Amerie to bed, Luzaya asked her god-fatehr for a private talk. Just as he had anticipated. Leaving her bodyguard behind with the Solo twins and their mother, the Sith princess left in a somber mood, Padmé thought. 

"Is Luzaya sad?" Amerie asked, when the two of them made their way down the hallway.

Padmé, long used to the little girl's perception, shrugged. "I do not know, darling. Perhaps she is a little uneasy about the future."

For some reason, Amerie then scuttled closer to her, as if afraid of something, and Padmé remembered what her husband had told her of their youngest grand-daughter's nightmare. Amerie was afraid for her brother for some reason, and Padmé felt the girl's worries seeping into her consciousness too. Not a comfortable thought. But Khameir was safe with Raisa. Bending down she wrapped Amerie in her arms and carried her the rest of the way. The girl was asleep before they even reached her bedroom.

TBC


	10. Discussion on the Past and Future

She stood at the window, looking out over the lake that was a glittering sea of moonlight that night. But the sight reminded Luzaya too much of what she had been named for, and her own uncertainty about whether she would be able to live up to that name, whatever it meant for her future. Behind her, seated in the high-backed chair and patiently waiting for her to pose her request, Anakin Skywalker was a calm presence, exuding wisdom she knew she would probably never achieve. Finally she turned back around to face him, and for a moment grief overcame her. She had known Anakin Skywalker ever since she had been little, as Cor'dan, as friend of the family, as legendary warlord and sorcerer. But when she saw him  sitting there, blue eyes attentive, his expression open and helpful, she realized that she had missed out on getting to know him as he really was, just as she had failed to truly commit to a friendship with Mahel Sivaraya, or even her lover, Naas Deron. And yet she felt that she could tell the former Dark Lord everything, that he was equal to her father when it came to trust.

Hugging her own body tightly with both arms, she hung her head. "I am worried about the future," she confessed. "I am alone in enemy territory, once I leave Naboo again, and leave I must. I – " Her head came up again, pale blue eyes regarding the man across from her pleadingly. "You know the future. My future. Could you not – could you not tell me?"

"What truly concerns you is the past, Luzaya Dan, is that not so?" he asked quietly, and waved her closer. 

Embarrassed by his insight, the young woman walked over to seat herself in one of the other chairs, wishing she were five years old again, and immune to being called on her foolishness. But she was grown up, and she knew exactly that she would not be treated as a responsible adult unless she started acting like one. Here was someone who understood what she was feeling. Why should she withhold anything from him if he could help her? She nodded at last, then began anew. "I was told I had to prove myself worthy of my name, worthy of my destiny. But I fear that my path will end like those of my predecessors."

"Afraid to die," he whispered. "My dear Luzaya, you should not fear something so petty." It was not a patronizing tone he used, and she felt grateful for that. "Let me tell you something about your predecessors, discounting the fact that myself and your own teacher are alive and will probably continue to be alive for the time being," he added with a smile. "No Cor'dan knows his or her fate, because that would hamper them from living out their potential, would blunt their edge in executing their duties. Which is why no Cor'dan would tell a newly named person of his or her fate, though we do know their future, just as I know yours. You know what your name signifies, and you try to understand how that will affect your life. But, Luzaya, it is not your name that defines your destiny, it is your actions, your own achievements, that define your name. The answer will be revealed in time. Naas Deron has instructed you on the origins of the Naming Ceremony?"

"Yes, he has," the princess answered reluctantly, and fell into her quotation mode. "It is our sincere belief that balance and unity define life and death. Therefore we honor the spirits by inviting them to share life with us. The Naming Ceremony seals the living to their responsibility toward the dead, which in turn reminds us of our duties to life itself. In sharing life with death, we transcend the level of crude existence and accept a higher calling."

He nodded solemnly, then a predatory smile appeared on his lips as he leaned toward her. "But you do not believe in what you just told me, Luzaya. You do not yet understand that this is not just a symbolic gesture, that you indeed share life with death. The spirit that named you is there, within you."

"You mean a reincarnation?" she asked, taken aback.

"It does not determine your path in life, if that is what you mean," Anakin Skywalker said dismissively. "You have studied the old teachings, and I am certain you have been told about Roj Kell's distinct views on the matter of self-determination. But as you grow older, and – hopefully – wiser, your own presence and your guardian spirit become one."

"In death, perhaps, yes," Luzaya injected gloomily. 

Anakin Skywalker's brows rose challengingly. "Oh? You believe that the Cor'dan achieves true wisdom only in death? Well, I am very much alive."

"But are you that wise?" she shot back. "I mean, let me take Lord Kell as example. He was undoubtedly the most knowledgeable being this galaxy has ever seen, but was he as wise as, say, Master Yoda? He let himself be killed by the Yuuzhan Vong to make a point, but he did not really achieve anything with his sacrifice. It was suicide, nothing less. And what did his predecessor die for? She sacrificed her entire clan, but what for?"

A pained look crossed his eyes, and she almost bit her tongue, fearing she had offended him. But then he said: "From your point of view it does appear wasteful and suicidal, understandably. And yet it was something different. Alda Magor's clan would have perished anyway, and she knew she could not prevent that. Which was why she sent her successor away, to seek a new beginning. He found it, and made it happen. It began with your mother's choice to found a new Sith Empire, and my choice to serve her as Cor'dan." He paused, and the pain in his gaze increased. The sight made Luzaya wince. "Even if he had not died at the hands of Marayl Carr, he had set a price for his deeds a long time ago. I have never told anyone, Luzaya, but if the warmaster had not killed him, I would have done it. And I would have dishonored his achievements in doing so," he added in a whisper.

Her brows shot up. "Why? You offered amnesty to others, who had been as sneaky and mean as he was. You spared his life before, even Master Yoda did. Why would you have killed him just then?"

Anakin Skywalker looked away, toward the glittering lake. "It is our desire to leave something behind once we die. Kell's very own legacy was death, yet his compassion also spawned life. But he never sought forgiveness, and never learned it. He never accepted his own deeds as crimes, because he accepted the consequences, the punishment with his deeds. It could not discourage him from doing what he did. That is why we are called the Heart of Darkness and carry the light within us. Once we assume that duty we must follow balance to achieve justice. Therefore the Cor'dan must be above the law, and set a price for his or her deeds. We do not gain absolution for what we do. I would have killed him, had he lived. But he spared me that choice. I had to learn to forgive, and that was what he taught me, what became my legacy as Cor'dan."

"And what is my legacy going to be? Will it be darkness? Or life?"

"Your choice, child. Yours alone. Your deeds reflect your own being, Luzaya."

Anakin could easily read the anguish in her eyes, and he understood too well what she was going through. To her the future must seem gloomy and injust, she questioned her own part in it, and she resented what she was being taught. Above all he could sense her doubt, doubt in the path she had chosen, doubt in her teacher. In that, the princess put too much meaning into ritual. She compared Naas Deron to his predecessors, not realizing that just because both Kell and Anakin had been schemers that did not mean Deron had to be one too. And Deron had to learn that his was a different calling. He had certainly not been chosen for his wisdom. The former Dark Lord risked a sardonic smile that immediately put Luzaya off. She gave him a hurt look that wiped the smile right off his lips. 

"What is so funny?" she challenged.

"Life, I guess," he answered truthfully. "Luzaya, do you think your master is making mistakes?"

"Truthfully?" She gave a bitter shrug. "He is not acting the way I thought he would. I think he is unable to cope with the situation, and Mother relies on his insight too much."

This time Anakin laughed out loud. "Your mother? I don't think Yana would rely on anyone but your father." Suddenly sobering, he heaved a tiny sigh. "Unfortunately we sometimes have to fall to find the right way. You are wondering why I chose Naas Deron to succeed me?" She gave a mute nod. "Very well. Naas Deron is a warrior and he hates subterfuge, because he was never good at it. He thinks he must meet the standards I, and Roj Kell even more so, set for him, but things are different now. He is not responsible for an entire galaxy, only for the Empire." He shrugged. "Short-term strategy. It is your mother's job to administrate the Empire, not his."

Luzaya frowned at him. "I don't understand that," she confessed.

"Quite easy, child. So far your mother's opponents expect Naas Deron to act the way I would. But they will soon find out that he is not very good at subtle threats and intricate schemes. They will grow bolder. And that is when he will strike. Because he will have no other choice. He will realize that the blunt strategy will serve him best, that he _is_ a warrior after all."

Lips slightly parted and eyes wide, the princess inhaled deeply. But then her features hardened again and she asked: "Lord Skywalker, what is the meaning of being Cor'dan? To plan ahead and guide the people? To use them?"

  
"Protection, Luzaya, and guidance, yes, but only if they request it. The Cor'dan may not be slave to any government, but neither should the Cor'dan rule. Recover the past, Princess, and you will find truth there."

"So easy for you to say," she snorted. "You could only learn from your past and make things better! But I am too young to learn from past experience, and my parents carved an empire out of chaos."

  
"Then there is nothing you can learn from them?"

She shook her head no. "I do not think so. What did _you_ learn from your parents?"

Anakin's brows shot up at that unexpected question. It was an intimate question, and he was not sure if he wanted to answer it, but then, he had asked her the same, had he not? And she deserved an answer, to ease her mind. Averting his eyes he gazed out over the lake, and smiled. "My mother, I suppose, taught me humility and generosity. She never rallied against her fate, she let me go when I needed to leave, and she was overjoyed at seeing me before she died, and now I know she did not hate me for being unable to save her." A smile had stolen onto his lips, unbidden. "She had greatness, I believe, even as a slave. As for my father ..." Anakin's face darkened once more. "I never knew him. The little I know of his life leads me to believe that he was strong-willed and proud. Your mother claims that he was compassionate. I for one hope he was also wise, at least I wish he was." He grinned self-consciously. "I suppose my children hoped the same, while they did not know me. I sincerely hope I did not disappoint them too much."

"Never!" Luzaya laughed, her dark mood gone.

His own mood turned bitter-sweet then, watching her genuine amusement, like a release from a burden she had been forced to carry by who she was and what time she had been born into. It was then, not surprisingly, that his thoughts were drawn back to the day of her naming. He had seen her future then, what she would become, in time, and he was reminded of that vision now, in that moment of shared memories of family. He wondered, briefly, whether his own father had had an inkling of what would become of his son, and, with disconcerting clarity, he knew it to have been exactly so.  He imagined his own father as he had faced death, taking solace in the future that would be shaped by his son. And he wondered whether, as former Cor'dan, he would be able to accept the future as easily.

The first night the princess spent in Varykino was filled with nightmares. As she lay in her bed, an elegant affair in an equally elegant guest-room, with Mahel quartered next to her room in one of his own, she woke drenched in sweat, her eyes wide, her mouth opened to cry out in terror. But fear strangled her, preventing her from making any sound at all. And nevertheless Mahel must have heard her in her restlessness, for when she sat up, her body rigid with tension, she found her guardian standing at the foot of the bed, his tall, gaunt frame like an inpenetrable mountain in the pale light of the moon that shone through the open window. Luzaya, who had expected to wake to the loneliness that surrounded her most nights, even when she was with Deron, felt tears break from her eyes, touched by the concern she could see in Mahel's stance and his expression. As her shoulders sagged with relief he was with her in two quick strides and caught her in his arms, gently lending comfort. He had not said a single word yet, and still, Luzaya knew how much he cared, that he was offering solace to her freely, without obligations on either one's part. 

"I am so sorry," she whispered, shaking her head. "I worried you."

  
"Ssh, don't feel ashamed," he answered softly, holding her closer. "I would never mistake honesty for weakness."

For him, a Yuuzhan Vong wrarior, to say this was miraculous, to say the least, and the novelty of it dried Luzaya's tears instantly. "Honesty?" she asked, confused.

"As friends," he told her then, "we should not try to hide our feelings from each other. You were afraid. There is no need to feel ashamed for it."

"Your father would have said something else," the princess pointed out, and watched Mahel nod solemnly.

"Yes," he agreed. "But I am not my father. I have been taught by the Cor'dan, and taught much more than I could ever have learned from Marayl Domain Carr."

Luzaya shook her head, shocked at his confession. For a Yuuzhan Vong to dismiss his parent so was unheard of and came close to treason to one's family. But then, had Mahel not been cast out already from his domain? He did not stand to lose anything by his frankness, especially not in the privacy od her bedroom. And perhaps, she thought, perhaps this break with his family's history had also freed him to pursue the life he wanted to lead, the life that Naas Deron had promised him. 

"Do you want to tell me what frightened you so?" he asked then, surprising her again. The look in his black eyes was one of serious concern.

For a moment Luzaya kept silent, then gently put her hand on his arm, pushing it aside. He retreated instantly, recognizing her need for distance as she prepared to lay her soul bare before him. Lips pressed tightly together, Luzaya tried to step back into the dark place she had visited in the netherworld of her dreams, strengthened by her guardian's presence beside her. She trusted him, more than Andarack, more than Deron himself. And with him by his side, she turned back to face her nightmare, recounting its tale for him even as she recalled each vivid image to her mind.

_She is walking the long hallways of the Citadel on Byss, feeling intimidated by the red-clad guards standing watch along the way. They never stir, each staring straight ahead, their faces hidden by blood-red, gleaming masks. But she is wearing a mask herself, can feel it on her skin, even though it is invisible, a shield of emotions. She cannot allow herself to grieve now, even though she does not know who or what she is mourning. But there is a terrible sense of foreboding, of a danger she is afraid to face. Still, she keeps walking, her heart fluttering with dread, her face carefully bereft of expression as she fights for a semblance of dignity. The hallway is dark, the red-cloaked guards the only source of colour. And the walls, wreathed in shadows, seem to converge on her, threatening to crush her resolve, to trap her forever. She takes a deep breath when at last she arrives at the great double-doors that lead to the throne room. They open before her of their own, with no machinery, no hand to aid them. Stepping through into the darkness beyond, Luzaya keeps her eyes straight ahead, on the throne that stands on its lonely perch at the other end of the hall. No light permeates the giant chamber, there is only darkness, and the halo of red sky that frames the distant throne, visible through the large viewport that opens one's view over the planet Byss. The throne, she sees as she comes closer, faces away from her. _

_Luzaya Dan walks forward steadily, suppressing her mounting fear. She has almost reached the stairs leading up to the dais when her questing foot encounters an obstacle in her path. A hard body, wrapped in soft cloth. She looks down quickly, feeling dizzy with the sense of danger that fills her to bursting. Naas Deron's dark, almost black eyes stare up at her, terribly cold, dead and unmoving. She inhales sharply and tears her gaze away again abruptly. She cannot bear to look at him. She cannot bear to look at his murderer. But she must, she knows she must. So she steps forward, climbs the stairs that lead up onto the dais, until she stands behind the throne, sensing the vast open space of the empty, dark chamber behind her. They are all alone, the three of them, one dead, two living. Luzaya is trembling, torn between desperate love and bottomless grief. _

_"It is done, then," she whispers. She does not know where she takes the strength from to speak at all. Slowly, the throne turns to face her, making no sound at all. _

_"It is done, yes," a voice she knows agrees, and Luzaya falls to her knees, unable to bear to look at him at all. His quiet words speak of grief, of a love lost long ago. They share that at last, even if they share nothing else any more. Luzaya feels a tear run down her cheek. "Have you come to judge me?" he asks then, his tone saddening her even more. "Your Emperor?"_

_She shakes her head. "How can I judge you?"_

_"To be fair," he says, and a low chuckle rises from his still form. "Did you not judge him too?" He nods toward the man who lies dead behind her, at the foot of the stairs._

_"I did," she confesses. "I hated him."_

_"You never hated me," he muses, his tone one of wonder. "Such a gift ..."_

_Luzaya, crying openly now, raises her head to look at him once more. "I gave it freely. To you. But I do not know you any more."_

She opened her eyes again, feeling the familiar wetness on her cheeks, and moved to wipe the tears away. Sniveling, she gazed at Mahel, expecting him to look confused, but his face bore no expressionless at all.

"Who was it?" he asks at last, his voice rough.

"Someone I love." She shook her head, unable to reveal that last secret. "Someone I would never want to lose. And I will do everything I can to save him. Everything. I cannot imagine, how – " she broke off, shaking her head again. So many meanings to that dream.

"It was a nightmare, Luzaya Dan. You said so yourself," Mahel told her then, soothingly. "It must not mean anything."

"In this house?" The princess shot him a hard glare. "No, Mahel, I do not believe this was just a random dream. The past is still haunting this house, it is in everything around us. Can't you see it? This was where it all began." Her gaze drifted into the distance, as if she could see the future there. _I will not let you become a simile of that dream_, she vowed to herself_. I will not let them win over you_. If this nightmare had truly been a vision of the future she had to move soon, and her mother had done right in sending her to Naboo. Only here she could learn what she needed to learn to judge and decide. Her father's fate hung in the balance, as well as her own. 

By the time the Millennium Falcon's familiar disc-shaped bulk had settled down on the gloomy patch Doctor Pawal's crew had cleared for the freighter the mood had grown considerably lighter. Perhaps the people working across the mass graveyard of Nzoth were simply looking forward to hearing something from the outside world, anything, that could take their minds of what they were doing here. Digging graves, erecting funeral pyres and taking samples and notes, all the while searching for a clue as to why this masscre had had to happen. Luke and Nuron were still conducting their own investigations, relying heavily on the riddle and clues left behind by Roj Kell. While they had not made much progress in making sense of the message written on the walls of one of the underground caves, they had found other signs of the ancient Sith Lord elsewhere on the planet. So Han Solo, once he had left the ship, found his brother-in-law bent over his datapad, busily typng in coordinates. Luke gave him an absent-minded wave of his hand as welcome, but never averted his gaze from the screens. He had a feeling that he was close to solving this particular riddle. 

"Hey, kid, I'd at least thought you'd be a little more enthusiastic about my visiting you on this miserable ball of rock." 

Despite his jovial greeting, Han Solo sounded troubled, and Luke could well imagine why. They had not yet managed to clear all of the bodies away, and the Jedi Master was seated on a small rock outcrop that overlooked much of the site where they had dragged the remaining bodies. Looking up just then, Luke saw Nuron loping upward to meet them, her face earnest and composed. She had grown a little more used to the lingering presence of  death here on Nzoth, and her anger had subsided somewhat. Then Luke turned to smile at Han. "You've come alone? Or is Chewie just hiding in there," he added, jerking his chin in the direction of the flat shape of the Falcon.

Solo shook his head, his eyes worried, as he settled down on his haunches beside Luke. "Naw, the Council gave me one of their agents as co-pilot. I had to leave pretty fast. I have a message for you, from Al'than'erudo. It's confidential."

"Oh." Luke's face fell. "You have it on the ship?"

"Yes. And I wouldn't mind getting out of sight of this – whatever it is." Straightening again, Han glanced around critically. Then, arching his brow in a wry gesture, he asked; "Kell's doing?"

"However did you guess?" Luke sighed, then grinned. "We'll make a Jedi of you yet."

Han shrugged. "I wouldn't mind, personally. Would give me an edge over Leia, you know? As for Kell, I kinda got a knack for recognising his handiwork when he was wreacking havoc out in the Unknown Regions.  What's his excuse this time?" he added flippantly, and Luke sighed. 

"That's what I'm trying to find out. He left a message, an ethical debate, I believe, and a few other sites  like these," he gestured at the bodies spread out before them.

"The man was sick, no doubt about it," Han commented under his breath, and Luke could feel just how angry his friend was. But when Nuron appeared alongside the two men, both Han and Luke brightened up somewhat. And then Doctor Pawal joined them, his expression one of curious interest.

"Ah, the infamous Han Solo. Welcome to our little nightmare." He gave a half-hearted laugh and extended his hand, which Han grabbed after a moment's suspicious hesitation before shaking it briefly.

"And you are, sir?" the Corellian asked a bit gruffly.

"I am Doctor Anteres Pawal, Preena Institute of Archeology and Bioresearch. I was authorized for a bit of historical detective's work on the demise of the Yevetha. Master Skywalker and Master Sarin-Skywalker are so good as to assist us. They've been very helpful so far, I must add."

Luke frowned ever so slightly. Pawal must have guessed that Han was sent by the Council, and assumed that the Corellian would report back to his superiors, making it necessary to placate him a bit. The Jedi Master though was confident that Han would not be easily fooled. Besides, once they were aboard the Falcon they could discuss the news more openly. 

"Is that so," Han replied at length, still sizing the scientist up with his most disapproving expression. "Then I'm real sorry having to inform you that the Council has need of Master Skywalker's services elsewhere. I fear you'll have to conduct your investigations on your own from now on."

"Unfortunate!" Pawal exclaimed, then smiled. "Of course, I would not want to hamper Master Skywalker in the execution of his duties toward the Council. I will, though, require what information he and his charming companion have uncovered so far. If that is permissible?"

"No problems with me," Han told Pawal, already turning away to speak to Nuron, leaving Luke to deal with the man.

Pawal, gave a slow nod and folded his hands in front of his body in an almost demure gesture. "When the Council summons you, you are certainly excused from this contract. I dearly hope it is nothing too risky?"

"The mission briefing yet awaits me," Luke answered truthfully, forcing himself to be pleasant. No need to put Pawal off. The man was hostile as it was. "Here are the latest findings I could come up with," he added then, gesturing at his datapad. "You'll find that the sites we found all connect in a sort of pattern. I am not certain what that pattern means. It could be a star-chart, coordinates, anything, really. But I trust your archeologists will find out in due time. You might want to look to Ordesha for some clues."

"Ordesha?" Pawal asked, bewildered. "Why there?"

"Roj Kell's homeworld. As far as I know nobody thought it worth researching so far. It might be a good idea, though. Just a suggestion." And a false trail for the dear Doctor to follow, too. Strangely enough, Luke did not feel in the least guilty for that little lie. It was no lie, actually, just a helpful hint. More or less helpful. _Father's having a bad influence on me_, the Jedi Master thought, grinning inwardly. Then, though, with a slight shudder, he remembered whose presence exactly held sway here on Nzoth. If Kell was still manipulating the galaxy's fate, even from beyond the grave, nothing was certain at all. Nodding at Pawal, Luke turned away to join his wife and their friend. 

"Hey kid, Nuron tells me she'd be very happy to leave at once. Shall we go? That message I spoke about, I think it is really urgent."

"Tell me, Han," Luke asked then, keeping his tone very light, "you didn't, by any chance, sneak a peek at that message, did you?"

"Are you mad?" the Corellian protested, as he lead the couple over to the Falcon. "Al'than'erudo has secured it with some Force spell, for all I know!" He flashed a grin at the Jedi Master over his shoulder. "Nah, you know I'd never dare. I asked your father."  
  


Smiling in response, Luke hurried after Han and Nuron, and soon they were safe from prying eyes and ears in the Falcon's rec room. Settling into the crash couch beside his wife, Luke put an arm around her shoulder unabashed, and ignored the grin Han shot the two of them. The Corellian looked good, relaxed, and all of his worry seemed to have disappeared once he had stepped inside the Millenium Falcon's entry hatch. It pleased Luke to see his friend reasonably happy, and he thought that, all in all, the years that had passed since the founding of the Sith Empire had been good to all of them. Looking around the rec room, Luke nodded to himself, then said, "So, is everyone all right on Naboo? No major mishaps, no catastrophes?"

"You've been out of touch, Luke. There's trouble aplenty, if you look close enough. Mostly with the Empire." And then Han proceeded to tell the couple of the recent attempts on Franzis Sarreti's life, the request Al'than'erudo had made concerning Jacen and Jaina, and of course he mentioned the message the Head of the Council had asked him to carry out o Nzoth. "You can use the holoreader right there," he said, as he threw a datacard at the Jedi Master, who caught it expertly.  "Since this is confidential," Han added, making as if to rise, but Luke waved him down again.

"It's okay. I don't have any secrets I would not share with you, or Nuron, for that matter." Leaning forward, Luke pushed the datacard in its appropriate slot, then waited for the holoreader to activate. When it did, it required a password idenification. Taken aback momentarily, Luke shook his head, then carefully pushed the activation key, prompting the reader to give an annoyed rattle. 

"Don't tell me the password is – " Han exclaimed, but then his suspicion was confirmed, when the datareader smoothly moved into display mode and a holographic screen appeared above the top of the game table in front of the couch. "Weird," the Corellian declared, making Nuron smile. But soon the trio's mood darkened, as they read the message sent to the Naboo Council by Naas Deron. Han was the first to find his vocie again. "Cannot guarantee the safety of the Empire's citizens?" he exclaimed, clearly agitated. "Then why can't he just go off and wait until he's cooled off? That's irresponsible! And he wants you to shepherd him and take responsibilities that he admits he won't be able to carry? The man is mad!"

"He is Cor'dan," Luke reasoned quietly.

"That's what I just said!" Han shouted, then calmed down a bit, looking embarrassed. "Your father, of course, is a notable exception in that regard," he explained hurriedly.

Beside Luke Nuron shifted in her seat and pulled up her knees on the couch, resting her shoulder against her husband's, and settled her arm on his carefully. "What he is trying to say, I believe," she told them, "is that he won't be able to take those responsibilities because he will be unable to prevent collateral damage. It is not his wish, but he has forseen it. He expects a conflict between the Sith Empire and the New Republic, and if the Cor'dan interferes in such a conflict the consequences might indeed be dire."

"But he would be fighting _for_ the Empire, wouldn't he?" Han asked, uncomprehending. "How then could he threaten their citizens' safety."

Luke was silent for some time, pondering Nuron's comment and Han's question. There was something both were overlooking, but he was very conscious of it. "Years and years ago," he began, "shortly after we defeated the old empire, the most senior members of the Jedi Order reportedly discussed how they would begin anew. They agreed, and I concur, that the Jedi cannot again be as prominent in the public consciouness as they were in the Old Republic. Yoda and Chi'in were in accord with Roj Kell there, all of them claiming that to be what they were destined to be the new order of guardians would have to remain independent of any government. They would have to be elusive too, and not advertise publicly. Their duty would be to all peoples living within the galaxy, but also to the Force, to life itself. Naas Deron is aware of that heritage. If there is going to be a conflict between the New Republic and the Sith Empire I for one would not discount the fact that he would choose neither side. After all, he is Cor'dan, you said it just now, Han. And I believe what we have here, on Nzoth, bears testimony to what it sometimes mean to be Cor'dan. "

"What the heck are you getting at?" Han demanded, sounding angry, "That it is okay to massacre innocent people if it benefits the future of all? What kind of reasoning is that?"

"The rules of survival," Nuron injected softly. "I knew we'd get a problem with that."  
  


"With what?" Han grated out harshly. 

"With the Cor'dan, of course," she replied calmly, but the look in her golden eyes bore a clear warning.

"And with the Jedi," Luke added quickly. "Don't you see? Al'than'erudo is trying to get me involved in galactic matters, to use me for his ends. But I cannot follow his decisions. I have to make my own."

"_Some_one's got to keep an eye on Deron. You can't deny that." Han said, shaking his head violently. "You can't leave him unsupervised."

"But that is not my job, Han," Luke explained, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I must follow my own judgement. And that tells me that I need to find out just what is going wrong. If I can do that then Naas Deron will never be forced to make the choice he describes in that message." 

Han gave him a blank stare, then smiled. "You're as clever as your father," he declared. "At least as clever," he added generously. "Or Leia, come to speak of cleverness." 

"What is your plan?" Nuron asked, her mouth so close he could feel her warm breath on his face. 

Luke hesitated, before he turned his head to look into his wife's golden eyes. "I am going into the Sith Empire. Snoop around. Follow what trails I can find."

"You'll need someone to watch your back," she reasoned, but he shook his head immediately.

"No. I need to do this alone. Han is too well known to accompany me, and you – I want you to look after the children. Take Khameir and the Morning Glory and go to Naboo, to Amerie. Perhaps you can assist Father in whatever it is he's going to do. He won't stay idle, that's for sure." He could see that she was dissatisfied with his proposal, but in the end she relented and gave a mute nod. With a bright little smile Luke rose from his seat, "Let's go, then. We've got no more time to waste."

TBC


	11. Off on adventures

Anakin Skywalker had not been able to sleep. So, having left his wife and hoping she wasn't only pretending to be asleep herself, he carefully made his way through the darkened bedroom and out into the hallway. He was walking barefoot, crossing the corridor to his office in silence, and stepped into the quiet room cautiously. His office was a neat affair, due to the fact that he seldomnly used it these days, and that he had forbidden his grandchildren to use it as playground. Checking the chrono over his desk he calculated the time difference to Honoghr critically, then decided it was not too early in the day to wake Chi'in. His old friend had retreated to his homeworld decades ago, celebrated as a hero, and they had not had much chance to meet personally since then. But tonight Anakin needed someone special to talk to, someone who would understand what was troubling him so about a certain message sent by Naas Deron.

Settling himself in the chair in front of his desk, he began typing the sequence number for Chi'in's private comm slowly, acutely aware of how much that call would cost him. No matter. He had enough credits to go around, and he should not be fickle when in need of a friend. No way. It took the encrypt/decrypt program – developed by Karrde's group – quite some time to report a successful connection to Honoghr, and soon after the holographic image of an elderly Noghri appeared in a small scale projection above the former Dark Lord's desk. Chi'in had always looked cool and wise, and that aura of wisdom had only intensified over the past decades. Strangely enough, Anakin felt intimidated by his friend's presence, even though once upon a time he had been the Noghri's master. But despite his own experiences as Dark Lord, warrior and Cor'dan, Anakin Skywalker knew that Chi'in had gained all of his insight so much earlier than he had, and that was what truly intimidated him. As if the Noghri had been born wise. He smiled at the thought, and found Chi'in smiling too.

"What news, my friend?" the Noghri asked at last. 

"I hope I did not wake you?"

Chi'in shook his head. "No, not at all. I don't sleep much these days." His black eyes focused on the human's face intensely. "But what of you? You could not sleep?"

Anakin nodded. "There are disturbing news, namely the Seeker's predictions on the conflict brewing within the Sith Empire. I need to talk to you about Naas Deron – "

"He will fail," Chi'in interrupted quietly.

"You knew?" Anakin felt his jaw drop. 

The Dynast nodded gravely. "I knew, yes. As Cor'dan, he is destined to fail. But you knew that when you chose him, did you not?"

Anakin was momentarily taken aback. Had he known? He was not sure. All he remembered was that he had chosen Naas Deron for what he was. A warrior. As for failure ... Grudgingly he had to admit to himself that he had never been entirely convinced of Deron's being fit for that post. "Well, I knew that he has a lot of issues, of emotional baggage he carries around with him," he reasoned, "but he is a responsible person and a good warrior and even a diplomat. The Seeker, though, claims he will indeed – fail," he finished lamely. "And no, I was not aware of that." He frowned at the Noghri. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"You were Cor'dan at that time, Anakin," Chi'in reasoned. "I had no right to interfere with your business."

It was then that Anakin became aware of the fact that during the time he had served as Cor'dan his mind, by custom, had not been entirely his own, but part of the Force. Kell had warned him of that, hadn't he? There was no other explanation of why he had made that choice, if even Chi'in had realized what it would bring in the future. "But – I do not understand why," he tried, feeling uncertain. 

"His soul was injured when Puket died at Almashin. That wound has never fully healed. And even though he restrains himself, his anger and his darkness threaten to blot out the light he carries within," Chi'in explained. "I did my best to help him heal, but he has cut himself off. I believed you would understand, that you would know how he felt. You went through much the same when you became Dark Lord of the Sith, did you not?"

"Of course, but – " Anakin hesitated. "That was different. I did not have the power he commands now. Being Cor'dan – " He shuddered. "My stars! If we aren't careful he will become what Irek was, uncontrollable. Why didn't you tell me!" he demanded, suddenly angry.

But the Noghri's gaze remained impassive. "Anakin. He simply has to find his way. You know that I did not appoint a successor to become Dark Lord. There was a reason for that choice I made." Leaning forward he looked straight at Anakin, his huge dark eyes like twin black holes. "I have reserved that post  for Naas Deron."

Holding his breath, Mahel Sivaraya tried to remain as still as he could, and mustered every calming technique he had learned as a warrior to slow his heart-beat a tiny bit and stop the distracting rush of blood to his head. He knew, of course, that he should not be listening in on someone else's conversation, but, to his credit, it had happened rather accidentally. Coming back from the princess' bedroom, after she had assured him that she would rest easier now, he had overheard the last few exchanges between Lord Skywalker and an unknown Noghri. They had been talking about the Cor'dan, and as Deron's agent, Mahel thought it his duty to try and find out more. What he was hearing did not disturb him in the least. On the contrary. Envisioning the future, he saw Luzaya Dan and Naas Deron ruling together, she as Empress, and he as her Dark Lord. For a moment that glorious vision paused as he thought about who would be Cor'dan, then, but he believed that perhaps Luzaya could be both worldly and spiritual ruler of the Sith Empire. In fact, he felt confident that she could pull it off, with Naas Deron beside her. 

Had the Noghri not just claimed that he had deemed Naas Deron his successor as Dark Lord? And had not Lord Skywalker expressed his unfaltering faith in the Cor'dan's skills as a diplomat and warrior? There was, even Mahel had to admit that, a slight stain on that perfect choice, namely what Skywalker had called ‚emotional baggage'. If Mahel understood correctly, Deron had lost a loved one at Almashin, and both the noghri and the former Dark Lord thought him flawed for it. Mahel briefly imagined losing someone he cared for deeply, and, not surprisingly, only Luzaya came to his mind. Shuddering at the thought, he closed his eyes briefly, then steeled himself once more, prepared to listen some more. Easing his shoulder against the wall, he inched his ear a little closer to the gap in the doorway. Just now the Noghri was saying ...

"She may be viewing that as treason, you realize that?"

"Yana Dar is always in agreement with anything that benefits her people," Skywalker replied confidently. "And with what the Seeker predicts, and, as I told you, both Thrawn and I agree on that too, treason will be the least of her worries. Betetr to have some allies with predictable interests than none at all."

"Deron may see that differently. If he interferes your plan will be lost."

"That's why we are so anxious to see Luzaya Dan on her way to Coruscant. Why Al'than'erudo had Andarack arrange that little incident on Nak'har. And the boy is proving himself too."

"Marayal Carr's son," the Noghri said, shaking his head. "There are dangers in that, to all of us, including Lomin Carr. The New Republic remembers the Warmaster, as do the Chiss. What did Thrawn have to say on the matter?"

  
Mahel held his breath, straining to hear better. This was Grand Admiral Thrawn they were talking about, the infamous Chiss battle-leader, whose genius had cost the Yuuzhan Vong the battle for Almashin, and with it the war. Mahel had always admired the blue-skinned humanoid for his brilliance, just as he admired the Cor'dan for his insight and power. Was Thrawn here? He would have loved to meet him personally. And he would really love to hear what he had had to say about him.

"Thrawn," Skywalker began slowly, "was impressed with the young man's resolve to break from his people's custom, much as Thrawn himself did, to achieve his goals."

"Are you certain you know Mahel Sivaraya's goals?"

"A few of them, and those that matter, as it is." That comment, delivered by the former Dark Lord in a most casual tone, surprised the young Yuuzhan Vong quite a bit. He wasn't even sure about his goals himself! All he was doing was to follow the Cor'dan's order in protecting the princess. "Luzaya will need him," Skywalker continued, "almost as much as she will need Naas Deron in the future. She does not trust her mentor fully, as she told me, but I believe she will come to see him differently now that she is getting away from her mother's influence. Yana can be quite overwhelming sometimes, as you will recall, Chi'in." The Noghri and the human shared a laugh. "Of course, we have no means of knowing whether Luzaya will realize her future at all."

"I take it you neglected to tell her the truth about her Naming Day?"

Anakin Skywalker seemed to shrug. "What truth?"

"You explained the rite to me once, and as I understand it, the guardian spirit the named person is given is in fact the future self of that person, which over time needs to be discovered by the one so named. And yet you also claimed that it was part of a bargain between the world of the spirits and that of the living."

  
"What are you getting at?"

"That Luzaya is left in the belief that an alien spirit resides within herself, when it is her all along. Don't you think that might distract her?"

Mahel saw Anakin Skywalker shake his head then. "No. Wisdom is partly attained by getting to know the truth about oneself. I learned that, you did too. Luzaya will learn the same."

"And her guardian spirit? You know who it is?"

Cocking his head to the side as if listening, Skywalker nodded. "I do," he said. "All I will say, though, is that she should trust Deron no matter what, no matter if he fails as Cor'dan. He is her most powerful ally in the crisis to come."

Taking a slow breath, Mahel Sivaraya edged away from the door, confident that he had heard enough. All right. He turned away quickly and stalked over to his own room, all the while fearing that the former Cor'dan had somehow sensed his presence. But then he would have called him on his insolent eavesdropping, wouldn't he? Only when he was safely inside his own room did he exhale in relief. He had his mission, and he would certainly see it through to the end, whatever that may be.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, Jaina had another opportunity to observe her brother's clumsy attempts at pretending he wasn't interested in the princess. It was a wonder he wasn't drooling. When Luzaya asked him to pass her the berry jelly, he almost cleared the table in his haste to comply. And while he might not have noticed the secretive smile on Luzaya's lips, starry-eyed as he was, Jaina certainly had. She was angry at the older girl, thinking that she should not use her looks to embarrass Jacen so. Of course, Luzaya was very pretty, and Jacen was probably reacting like any male around her did. One only had to look to Mahel Sivaraya, the Yuuzhan Vong, to see that he was feeling much the same for the princess. He hid it better, though. Jaina refrained from gazing at her grandparents' knowing faces. It would only make her mood worse. Her mother, she knew, would also be pretending that her son wasn't making a complete fool of himself.

Polite, everyday conversation drifted up and down the table as breakfast continued, and then Jacen asked whether anyone had any last-minute advice concerning their mission to Bakura. Jaina started. She had totally forgotten that they'd be leaving tomorrow! Immediately her eyes lodged onto her mother's face, and she saw Leia smile warmly. 

"Last-minute-advice?" she asked, arching her brows. "Jacen, advice should never come at the last minute. I believe I have told you all I could, just as Al'than'erudo has. There is nothing more to add. Or is there?" she questioned, turning toward her father. 

Anakin shook his head. "Not from me. And we should not tell them _everything_," he added with a wink directed at Jacen. "Some things they will have to find out for themselves."  
  


"You are leaving for Bakura? When?" It was Luzaya Dan, her tea cup held delicately in her right hand, who posed that question. "How interesting. What kind of mission will that be?"

"No mission at all," Jaina said grimly, astounded at her own hostility. Everyone was staring at her queerly, she saw, and Jacen was shaking his head in disapproval. Well! He could disapprove all he wanted! _She_ was not the one with the starry eyes!

Taking on the diplomatic duties, Jacen nodded toward the Sith princess and smiled. "There have been threats of terrorist acts on the world Bakura, and we are to aid in the investigations."

"Terrorist acts?" Luzaya repeated, her voice cool. "What sense would there be in launching terrorist acts on such a remote world?"

"A world that is a very important supplier of repulsor equipment," Anakin Skywalker injected. "Economic reasons, I suppose."

"Or else a distraction," Mahel Sivaraya commented quietly. "Your Highness, this might be worth investigating for our own cause," he explained with a meaningful nod. 

The princess shot him a frown, but then grew seemingly thoughtful. "If this is a distraction, then our place should be elsewhere," she mused aloud. 

"But we do not have any other lead to follow for now," he reminded her, and Jaina found herself looking on in fascination. She had the distinct feeling that they were following a prescribed script of sorts, but she had no idea yet whose brain-child that script had been in the first place. 

"Perhaps Mahel is right;" Grandfather advised. "Andarack's report made it clear that the Cor'dan suspects the conspirators to consist of insiders and outsiders. While he is searching for those within the Empire, you could try to uncover those without."

"I disagree," Mother countered sternly. "Luzaya Dan is a foreign dignitary in the New Republic and should not be seen prosecuting our own citizens as if she were a bounty-hunter. She must contact official New Republic authorities and make a request for their assistance."

The moment her mother had said that, Jaina knew exactly what would follow. So it had truly been her grandfather who had staged this little scene, and she felt true admiration for his skills, even though she had no clue what he was aiming for. Looking across the table she kept her eyes on Luzaya Dan and saw the princess' pretty features take on a very calculating expression. Luzaya gave Mahel a questioning look, seeking confirmation that he gave with a tiny nod, then turned to gaze at Jacen with her most winning smile. 

"In that case," she announced, "I should appeal to the two of you to take me and Mahel with you on your investigation. I promise, we will not interfere in your work, simply observe and share your findings, if you permit it."

"That is – " Leia began to protest, realizing too late what she had sparked, but Grandfather interrupted her as gently as he could. 

"It is a very good idea." Anakin's voice carried such a tone of finalty that no one dared say a word for five seconds afterward. 

"If you say so," Mother agreed at last, lips compressed into a thin line. She was not content with his decision, Jaina could see, and neither was she, for having Luzaya along was the least thing she could wish for. Jacen, of course, would be delirious. But the word had been spoken, and now there was nothing more to add without causing a family row. With an ill-concealed sigh, Jaina propped her chin on her hands and shook her head. Perhaps things would become easier once they were away from Naboo, but she had no real hopes there. Great. Just _great_.

The next morning Padmé Amidala Naberrie stood beside her husband and her daughter, saying last goodbyes to her grandchildren. Hugging both Jacen and Jaina tightly she was smiling, even though there was a little sorrow in her heart. "Be careful," she admonished them for the hundredst time, and saw Jacen roll his eyes in exasperation.

"We shall be keeping an eye on them," Mahel Sivaraya told her pleasantly, his tall frame looming over all of them. 

Jaina, Padmé noticed, shot the Yuuzhan Vong an evil glare, but he was right after all. He was the oldest among them, and probably the one with the most experience concerning battle. Standing by his side, Luzaya Dan was smiling to herself, a practised mask, Padmé believed, and not comforting in the least. She went forward to hug the princess, whose smile turned sincere as the two women embraced. 

"Do not worry, truly," Luzaya repeated her bodyguard's assurances. "We won't be endangering them in any way."

"Good," Padmé murmured, then stepped aside to make room for her husband. 

Anakin was smiling down at the princess, then put his hands on her shoulders and nodded at her. "Remember what I told you, Luzaya Dan. You are making this journey to learn. About yourself and this galaxy, most of all."

"I know," she answered timidly, inclining her head in acceptance. "And I shall remember."

Joining his wife, Anakin laid an arm around Padmé shoulders, drawing her closer. He was smiling, she saw, a grim smile, that frightened her somewhat. She could tell by the look in Leia's eyes that their daughter had seen it too. But only when they had at last seen the children and their friends off, with Jaina and Jacen manning the pilot and co-pilot seats of the small yacht the Council had assigned them to, did she dare pose the last question.

"Is this part of what you have planned? You, Tomas and Thrawn?" Padmé asked quietly, turning so she could look her husband in the face.

"Part of it, yes," he nodded, his eyes flicking over to where Leia stood. "We have to stand together, all of us, to help the Sith Empire overcome this crisis. That concerns you most of all, Leia. Are you willing to take up that burden?"

The Princess gave a shrug and smiled wryly. "I fear I am not given much choice. I can only stand for my own views and defend them."

"Even against your own government?" Anakin asked quietly, shocking not only his daughter. 

"_What_ is going to happen?" Leia demanded, aghast. 

And so he told them.

For a long time afterward, Padmé found herself staring off into the distance, her heart clenched with sorrow and her mind blank with pity. She could not imagine how anyone could be so cold about any of this, as cold as Naas Deron was, who had sent Luzaya away deliberately, accompanied by a Yuuzhan Vong warrior with questionable parentage. She could not imagine how Yana felt about her daughter's leaving, wondered how much of the truth the empress knew, or her husband, for that matter. If they knew, they were being very, very brave. Lowering her gaze, Padmé found the thought heartening, that Anakin's confession of his knowledge as Cor'dan had strengthened Leia's resolve to interfere on behalf of the Sith Empire. A hard struggle for her, and it even might be the end of her political career. Yet she had not even hesitated in her vow to defend what needed to be defended: Luzaya Dan's future, and that of the Empire.

"They're here!" Khameir's joyful yell reverbrated throughout the entire house, as he trampled down the staircase to the front-door, almost falling in his haste to get down into the central hallway. And still, to his great dismay, Raisa was there before him, and already opening the door when he arrived, breathless. "Aw, come on!" he protested, standing with his fists propped on his hips, a stern expression on his face as he confronted his adopted grandmother, who looked more than a little guilty. 

"Is that how you repay Raisa's hospitality? By being rude?" his mother asked then, and her son's hands flew behind his back instantly, fidgeting, while he waited for her to enter at last.

"Sorry," he managed, lowering his head, and a moment later his father's laughter rang through the corridor as he ruffled Khameir's thick, curly hair. 

"Never mind, son," Luke Skywalker announced graciously. "This is excellent practise for when you'll be getting married. You'll see." The Jedi Master turned toward Raisa Tobyn, smiling, and continued, "I am sorry, but I cannot stay for very long and I also fear we will have to deprive you of your cheeky grandson too."

"Cheeky!" Khameir began to protest, but a look from his mother's golden eyes silenced him instantly. "Where're we going anyway?" he added a little sullenly. 

"You are leaving with your mother for Naboo, to collect your sister," his father explained.

"And where are _you_ going?" Raisa inquired, closing the door at last. 

"A short trip into Imperial space," Father explained lightly, but Khameir noticed the flash of worry in his mother's eyes. "And don't worry, I will be careful," the Jedi Master addressed all of them, but his son had a feeling that he was specifically speaking to him.

"Can't I come with you?" the boy asked earnestly, feeling that he was being sold short somehow.

His mother shook her head. "Your father and I have already discussed this, Khameir. You are coming with me. I doubt we'll be staying on Naboo for long, though," she added. Someone's got to keep an eye on this Pawal," she continued grimly, and shot her husband a questioning glance.

"Not Ordesha," Luke replied, shaking his head. "Not with the children," he cautioned her, causing a stab of anger to pierce his son's heart. But Khameir kept silent. It would not do to voice childish protest. He needed to earn their respect and trust with the manner of an adult, that he had learned early on. 

Nuron Sarin-Skywalker arched her brows challengingly and folded her arms across her chest. "And why not?" she asked. "Luke, Ordesha is probably the least dangerous place for us to go."

"It's Kell's home world," Father reminded her, looking doubtful.

"Exactly. That's why it is safe," Mother countered with a smile. "Don't you think so, Khameir?" she added, looking directly at her son, who flushed a darker shade of bronze at the unexpected question.

He understood that his mother was giving him a chance to prove his insight, to prove to both her and his father that he was no child.  Composing himself, he thought fast, then nodded. "Indeed," he said gravely. "As home world to the Cor'dan, the planet is a focus of the Force, and therefore protected. If we observe the balance of the world, we should be safe."

"Where better to take the children, and teach them?" Mother added with a smile. "And Khameir can watch out for both me and Amerie," she continued, when she noticed the doubtful look on her husband's face.

He threw up his hands in resignation. "All right," he sighed. "I can see your mind is set. But, Nuron, Khameir, I ask you both to be careful."

"Aren't they always?" Raisa murmured, then ran a hand through Khameir's hair, just as his father had done. "I'll miss the little ones, though."

Khameir patiently endured her affections, reasoning that it would be very impolite to protest her calling him 'little'. She had watched him grow up, after all, and he had accepted that he would probably remain a 'little one' to his grandparents for quite some time. Not to mention his parents.

"Then that is settled," Father announced. "I got to leave as soon as possible."

"Take the Morning Glory," Mother told him gently. "We can hitch a ride on the Falcon."

"And get to Ordesha how?"

"We'll figure something out," she told her husband pleasantly. "But I would feel better if you took our ship." Leaning forward, she placed a light kiss on Luke's lips. "All right?"

Sure," he mumbled, then shot a quick grin at Khameir. "Take care of the girls for me," he told the boy, then bowed slightly toward the three of them. "May the Force be with you."

"No!" He had to almost run to catch up with his wife, as Yana was striding purposefully down the hallway, fuming. "You cannot do that!" Franzis Sarreti growled, truly angry. "I will not give my consent, you can count on that!"

"I don't need your consent," she snapped over her shoulder, her blue eyes flashing. "I happen to be _Empress_."

"And that's why you have a certain responsibility toward your people," he beseeched her, carefully reaching out to take hold of her sleeve. She twisted out of his grasp angrily, and quickened her steps. "Yana!" Rolling his eyes in exasperation, the Royal Consort hastened after his retreating wife, then firmly took hold of her arm and dragged her into one of the adjoining rooms, where he could be certain they would not be overheard. She held her head high, ignoring her hold on her deliberately. "Listen," he said in a low voice, "no matter how angry you might be, Ambassadors Beryd and Nawa will certainly report back to their respective superiors, and you can guess what either President Fey'lya and Emperor Ja'han'mandana will think on such action."

"As if I care!" she exclaimed. "Elu Cha is murdered and you suggest I do nothing?"

"Let Deron handle it, the deception sect itself, but heaven's, Yana, _don't_ take revenge. Don't."

She glared at him, keeping a stony silence. When the news of High Priest Elu Cha's violent death had reached them this morning, Yana had been furious. And in her initial anger she had ordered every single Yuuzhan Vong of high office to be incarcerated, awaiting questioning. It was the worst possible choice she could have made, even though her patience had finally run out. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she did not understand why he of all people would not be in agreement with her. After all, she was doing all of this for him, or so she believed. They had made no progress at all in tracking down the traitors who had repeatedly tried to assassinate the Royal Consort, and that lack of success had evolved into a matter of pride for the temperamental ruler of the Sith Empire.  

"Why should I not be hard on them?" she asked then, her voice very cold. "If they refuse to respect their freedom and interpret it as leniency on my part, I can change that anytime. They can have a tyrant to rule them, if they want it so much. I have no problem there," she sneered, then turned away, her shoulders heaving with emotion. 

"Yana," her husband told her soothingly, "you are only playing into the hands of whoever is trying to split the public opinion. Every Imperial citizen out there who harbors any grudge against the Yuuzhan Vong will applaud your action, and that will drive the stake separating them from the Yuuzhan Vong even deeper. If you seek justice, you must deploy it equally."

Turning to face him, her eyes flashed balefully, causing him to take a step back. "But I am doing exactly what they want me to do," she hissed, smiling grimly. "Now we only have to wait and see who will approve of my action, and we will have a lead to follow."

Franzis shook his head at her all too simple reasoning. It was the anger speaking, he knew, and it bothered him immensely. "I will go and talk to the Cor'dan, ask for his advice. Promise me that you won't put anyone to the question until I am back," he added wryly.

"Promise," she replied with a sigh, her features softening for the first time that day. Then, moving almost shyly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, for a kiss. "Franzis," she whispered, once they had disengaged at last. "Do you believe that I am being too hard? Truly so? Would you not do the same, were you in my place?"

He shook his head again. "Never wish I were in your place, Yana. You are doing so much better than I would. Please, keep a cool head now. Don't do anything rash. Don't make me stop you the hard way either," he added quietly.

A look of hurt crossed her blue eyes then. "Would you?" she questioned. "Would you truly do that to me?"

Inclining his head, he felt her anguish echoed in his own heart. "I have a responsibility to our people, just as you do. So let's try not to hurt one another. All right?"

"All right," she answered, nodding like a school-girl who had just been chastised by her favourite teacher. 

Franzis gave her one last look, yearning to embrace her, then turned away to leave. Ever since Luzaya had left Yana's temper had been worsening with every day that had passed without their investigations coming to any conclusion at all. She wanted to take revenge, he could feel it. And it frightened him. As he hurried through the Citadel's hallways, always shadowed by six bodyguards these times, he felt his heart ache with worry over both his wife and his daughter. Somehow he had a feeling that things were slipping out of his control, and that was something he had difficulty dealing with. Perhaps Naas Deron would have some counsel to give. Unfortunately, he was sorely disappointed by the Cor'dan in that regard.

"Who do you think I am?" the tall Sith Lord asked coldly. "A politician? If she wants to run her head against the wall, who am I to stop her?"

"But you have a responsibility too," Franzis argued. "Have you made any progress in tracking the traitors down?" 

"Progress?" Naas Deron growled. "My hands are bound, you fool!" he exclaimed harshly. "I have saved your life twice, Your Highness, and I cannot do more. I can only watch now. All I could do I have done. Why won't you understand that?"

Taken aback, Sarreti shook his head. "You will just stand by?"

"For the time being," Deron replied hoarsely. "A piece of advice, though: keep a close eye on your wife, if you can. She is running through a mine field blind-folded. You must be her guide, her protector."

"I am that. Always," Franzis said, resigned. "But I wish I were better at the job."

With a laugh, Naas Deron slapped his back hard. "You are doing well enough, Your Highness! Well enough indeed."

Naas Deron was watching the Royal Consort's expression very closely as Franzis Sarreti visibly struggled to understand what the Cor'dan was telling him. The Sith Lord could see the confusion melt away gradually as revelation dawned, and soon surprise had turned into suspicion. Taking a long step back, Franzis Sarreti shook his head before he said, "I cannot do this all by myself," he declared. "I require your assistance. No matter what. I refuse to accept that you cannot help me now. What have you done to be left with no options at this point of time?" he continued, grey eyes narrowed.

Deron stiffened at that, cursing the Royal Consort's sharp wit. "As I already told you," he replied softly, "any intervention on my part is unnecessary as long as you are keeping watch over your wife," he explained. "I do have options, of course, but I'd rather not make use of what possibilities I do have right now. My power is best used at a different point of time."

"When?" Sarreti asked sharply. "When will it become necessary for you to intervene?"

"Only if you fail," Naas Deron answered. "And now, Your Highness, I would advise you to return to the Empress' side, where you belong."

"That is your last word?"

"Yes."

"Very well." With a curt nod, Franzis Sarreti whirled around and stalked away without a further word or another glance directed at the Cor'dan. 

Once he had left the Temple of Rebirth, deserted safe for its guardian at this time of the day, Naas Deron permitted himself to curse aloud. If there was one thing he truly hated it was inactivity. In all of his warrior training he had been taught to take action if necessary and be patient when prudent. All of his instincts now told him that inaction was the absolutely wrong choice to take in this situation, but his instincts did not count for very much. Whenever he even considered what he might be doing, the bonds that held him captive as Cor'dan would quell any will of his own to truly put his consideration into action. So all that was left to him was to watch and silently rail against millennia of tradition and an overwhelming force that held his mind prisoner. 

The only choice he truly had was to numb his own emotions, to make himself indifferent to the fate of those around him, so he would have no emotion to distract him once the time to interfere truly came. It would come, that he knew. He had seen it on Mahel Sivaraya's Naming Day, when the young Yuuzhan Vong who had once been called Lomin Carr had chosen to follow the Cor'dan's path of balance. Blade Wielder, his new name signified, and Naas Deron thought with grim satisfaction of the young alien's future. He had noticed, as had the empress and her consort and many more, that Chi'in clan Rim'kai had not appointed a successor to his post as Dark Lord of the Sith. There was no way for the empress to choose a warlord herself, since that choice had been made in the Noghri's capacity as the Empire's primary military protector. His choice was therefore to be regarded as a calculated one, and respected as such. And for as long as a Dark Lord was not needed, this was a valid choice too. Yet Naas Deron knew that soon now the Empire would once more require the services of a supreme commander. 

That commander could be no other than Mahel Sivaraya.

The boy was the perfect choice. As son to the late Yuuzhan Vong warmaster Marayl Carr he had learned everything about warfare that could have been learned, he was a warrior at heart, and a smart one at that. Being shunned by his family domain, he had had the opportunity to broaden his horizon, and the fact that he had accepted Naas Deron as his mentor had opened his mind to the Cor'dan's vision of what the Sith Empire should be in the future. Had to be. And yet there would have to be sacrifices to be made for that vision to come true, too. One of them was staying idle now, though Deron itched to punish the traitors who threatened the very balance he sought to protect. Yet if he chose to single-handedly end the conspiracy that aimed at dethroning Yana Dar and her consort, an easy feat for someone who knew exactly where to look for the conspirators, he would have forsaken the vision he knew he had to fulfil. Other factors needed to come into play, other players had to enter the game. Only then could the future be ensured safely and lastingly. 

With a tiny sigh, Deron stepped toward the central altar set into the temple's center. He put his palm flat on the rough surface of the stone, then closed his eyes, as the shadows flowed toward him from every corner, wrapping him in a cloak of darkness, as befitted his title. Connecting his mind to that of the yammosk slumbering on distant Kynda'bey, the Cor'dan searched for his pawns far from home, the princess and her guardian. He found them soon, and on their way to the other end of the galaxy, if he was any judge. What they meant to 

accomplish there was a riddle to him, and he frowned in response to his own uncertainty. Yet their decision did feel right somehow. 

Setting his jaw grimly, the Cor'dan shifted his mind's focus to the center of darkness he could sense even without the yammosk. Yana Dar was feeding her vengeful emotions diligently, frustrated at the lack of success in her investigations and worried over both her husband and her daughter. She was, perhaps unwillingly, confirming her enemies in their stance toward her, which was, in essence, not a very good move on her part. Deron had a feeling that she relied on the Cor'dan to interfere, as he had promised her. But it was not quite time for that yet. More had to happen to allow him to act. 

Much more.

TBC


	12. Bakura

It was a boring trip to Bakura, and Jacen and Jaina Solo were poor company, Mahel had to admit. The twins were suspicious of him and careful around Luzaya Dan, and so both he and the princess found they were spending more time with one another than with their companions. Luzaya would watch him go through his exercises and in turn, as apprentice to the Cor'dan, led him through the prayers of death and rebirth. They did not talk much, letting their eyes speak instead. Yet they were very comfortable around one another, increasingly so. And as the days passed and they knelt before one another in prayer each artificial morning and evening, Mahel had ample opportunity to familiarise himself with the princess' delicate features. Her eyes would be closed in concentration, her lips moving softly as she spoke the words of worship for him, and, watching her in rapt fascination, Mahel would feel more and more entranced by her. 

She was magical, he thought, a gentle magic, as opposed to Naas Deron's all-consuming dark presence. It was easy to follow her sermons, easy to follow her lessons. Her voice was a caress that smoothed the prayers into pure song, and for the first time since his Naming Day, Mahel understood what the Cor'dan truly was. A guide, a friend, a teacher and a shelter. His shelter. And on the third day of their voyage, he realised that she was feeling the same about him. He had exhausted himself in his latest exercise session, allowing himself no respite, no break at all. When at last he collapsed to the ground, his chest rising fast and his muscles aching fiercely, Luzaya crouched down beside him, smiling, holding a cup of water in her hands. He took it delicately, then drank slowly, as he had been taught. 

The princess held his eyes all the time. "Why Bakura?" she asked at last.

Surprised, Mahel nearly choked on the clear liquid. Then, setting the bowl down beside him, he sat up, embarrassed. "A strategic decision," he explained. "Inspired by that little incident we had with Andarack."

"Ah! Andarack!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Am I glad that he did not come along too!"

Mahel laughed at her faked outrage, then shook his head, "But this was a lesson of value, Highness. We must bait the enemy to be able to recognise him."

"What if he traps us instead?" she asked, her pale blue eyes attentive. "What if something happens to me while I am in company of two Jedi? Will they not be blamed for failure of protecting me?"

"They might," Mahel confessed. "But we do know who has information of our being there with them. That narrows our choice of enemies somewhat."

"It is also very dangerous, in a political sense," she admonished him, and he froze when she reached out to touch his shoulder, an absent-minded expression on her face. "My mentor taught me to always be secure of one's enemies before laying a trap like that. You could trap yourself instead quite easily. I must be careful, Mahel. You heard Leia. The New Republic does not look kindly upon my mother's reign, and we should not give them reason to doubt her even more."

"I believe I am certain of who our enemies are," Mahel said then, remembering his meeting with the four Yuuzhan Vong who had shown him to his brother's body. "They will reveal themselves once goaded out."

"But how? How do we accomplish that?"

Mahel shrugged. "I will think of something," he told her, guiltily hoping she would not catch him on that lie. 

He had already decided what he would do, what he needed to do to keep her safe and at teh same time expose the conspirators who were working against the Empire's leaders. But Mahel was pretty certain that the princess would disapprove of his plan. She was a proud woman, and headstrong. He was not at all sure whether she could truly appreciate the element of surprise his own device would gain them. For he had reasoned, correctly, as he assumed, that he could draw out their enemies and protect the princess in one single stroke. All that was required was for him to fake her abduction. The conspirators would panic, trying to find out what had gone wrong and who of their number had acted out of line. And Luzaya would be safe, and able to operate without any interference, neither on the Empire's part, nor on that of either the New Republic or the Council of Naboo. It was a well-conceived plan, the young warrior thought, and made all the more effective if kept secret even from Luzaya.

As it would turn out, he was terribly wrong about that.

Jacen Solo was not very surprised when, upon their arrival at Bakura, their ship, registered to the Council of Naboo, was received with all honors. A flight of TIE-fighters escorted them to the impressive bulk of the mighty New Republic Star Destroyer Freedom, and Jacen could see his sister's quiet excitement as she guided their ship into one of the destroyer's large landing bays. Settling the small vessel onto the shining deck, Jaina heaved an audible sigh of relief, then shot a rueful glance at her twin. Jacen flashed her a smile, then unhooked the flight harness and darted back to the passenger area, where Luzaya and Mahel were waiting expectantly. 

"There was no trouble?" the princess asked, her eyes slightly widened, as if in worry. 

Jacen performed gallant bow, then extended a hand toward her, offering assistance. "No trouble, Your Highness."

"Thank you," she replied, and took his hand with a smile. "I dare say, though, that there will be trouble once we disembark," she added softly, and threw a meaningful glance at the Yuuzhan Vong warrior who now stood beside her.

"No armour, I take it?" Mahel asked, wry amusement plain in his tone. 

"Best not to provoke them," Luzaya agreed with her bodyguard. 

"Then I shall go and set the droids to unload your luggage," the warrior replied, bowed briefly, then strode away. 

Jacen watched him go, feeling thoughtful. There had been something between the princess and her guard, just briefly. Jealousy raised its ugly head from the depth of his heart then, but he squashed it brutally. Forcing a smile on his face, he escorted the princess to the exit hatch, where Jaina was already waiting for them. 

"What kept you?" his sister demanded, then shook her head in disapproval, before she punched the release panel of the exit hatch with a little more force than necessary. "Let's go outside. They're already waiting."

'They', as Jacen found once he stepped down the landing ramp, Luzaya by his side, was a contingent of New Republic guards, and two officers clad in dark blue Navy uniforms. Both men were unfamiliar. One, the older, was white-haired, slender and obviously the Captain, judging by his insignia. The other, broad-shouldered and large, with receding blond hair and very blue eyes, bore no insignia at all, which was always suspicious, as Jacen had learned. 

The Captain stepped forward, smiling, and extended his hand toward Jaina first.  "Welcome to Bakura, Miss Solo. I am Captain Teer Shikay, commander of the Freedom. Nice flying, out there."

Jacen's twin returned the greeting with grace, and grinned broadly at Shikay. "Captain, this was nothing. I did admire your flight's formation, though. Very nice."

Shikay laugh, then nodded at Jacen. "And this would be Jacen Solo, your twin. I am pleased to meet you too." There was a brief hand-shake, then the Captain moved on to Luzaya. "And who might you be, my lady?"

"I am Luzaya Dan, Captain," she replied, extending her hand gracefully to take his, a smile on her pretty face. "Ambassador on behalf of the Empress. Jaina and Jacen were so good as to take me along. I promise," she added, "that we won't be troubling you at all."

"Oh." For a moment, the elderly Captain looked perplexed. But then he found his composure again, and bowed deeply. "A very great honor, Your Highness, to have you on my ship." Straightening again, he gazed at the princess with a calculating look in his eyes. "As ambassador, you say? On what mission, if I may ask?"

"A diplomatic one, of course," Luzaya answered calmly. "What else?"

"Of course," Shikay echoed slowly. But Jacen saw that his attention was focused elsewhere, above Luzaya's head. Turning around, Jacen saw Mahel Sivaraya exiting the ship unconcernedly, ignoring everyone and coming to a stop at Jaina's side. Jacen could feel his sister's discomfort at having the Yuuzhan Vong so close, but she did not budge. "Another ambassador?" Shikay asked dryly, nodding toward Mahel.

"Mahel Sivaraya is my bodyguard, Captain," Luzaya explained. "Just that."

It occurred to Jacen only then that Luzaya had said nothing of her apprenticeship to Naas Deron. Mentioning the Cor'dan would probably not be a very good idea, he mused. He wondered why.  

"You are welcome, all of you," Teer Shikay announced, then motioned for them to follow. "I take it you will be having dinner with me?"

"A pleasure," Luzaya explained, then quickly moved forward to put some distance between herself and Jacen. Immediately, Mahel inserted himself between the princess and the young Jedi. 

With a sour grunt and a scowl on his face, Jacen hurried after the pair, with Jaina joining him presently. "You don't have a chance, little brother," she whispered at him. "She's way out of your league."

"Let that be my worry," he shot back, angry. he ignored her grin and quietly followed their guide toward the forward deck. The as of yet nameless uniformed man, the blond one, was following them too. Jacen threw a suspicious glance over his shoulder, and saw the stranger frowning darkly. Was this frown caused by Luzaya's presence, or that of the Yuuzhan Vong? Jacen could not be certain. But he had a pretty good feeling that the reason for the man's obvious displeasure was either one or the other. Why that was so, was revealed in the prettily decorated dining room Teer Shikay led them to. 

Once the door had closed behind them the Captain asked everyone to take a seat, before he introduced his uniformed companion. "I will make this brief, for we do not have much time, in truth. Counsellor Al'than'erudo has sent you to assist in our investigations of supposed terrorist activity here on Bakura," he continued, "but you will understand that I cannot give you full responsibility over this mission. The NRI has already dispatched Colonel Kattaran to lead those investigations. It falls to him to decide whether he can make use of your abilities or not." 

He indicated the blond giant to his right, and suddenly Jacen remembered the name. Alowyn Kattaran had been a major in the Imperial Secret Service before and during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Obviously, he had decided that the Sith Empire was not deserving of his loyalty, despite Franzis Sarreti's continued reign beside the Empress. Interesting. Very interesting. Jacen resolved to keep a close watch over what the colonel said or did. This might become dangerous for Luzaya, after all. 

Kattaran inclined his head briefly after the little speech delivered by Shikay, then looked straight at the princess. "I had not expected the Council to allow outsiders to join your mission. I dearly hope, Your Highness, that you will not be disappointed when I tell you that I must exclude you from the investigations. This is New Republic business."

"I understand, Colonel," Luzaya said, nodded gracefully. "As I have already told the Captain, we do not wish to interfere in your investigations."

"Then why are you here?" Kattaran asked bluntly. "A ploy designed by your sorcerer, this Deron?"

"Naas Deron is no sorcerer," Luzaya replied somewhat stiffly, raising her chin in a haughty gesture. "He is one of our religious leaders, and Cor'dan, as I am certain you know."

"And your master. I also know that," the colonel shot back harshly. "He is trying to interfere. You cannot tell me he is not."

"Your accusations are very impolite, to say the least," the princess countered, very calm once more. "Yes, I am his apprentice, but I was sent by my mother, to see what can be done to mend the relations between the New Republic and our own realm."

"And what does she propose can be done at Bakura?" It was Jaina, who asked, and Jacen almost would have told her to be silent, had he not noticed the look on Mahel's face. 

  
Luzaya hesitated, her confident expression faltering. "I -," she began, paused, a frown appearing on her forehead. Jacen winced at her embarrassment, despite his own curiosity as to what she would answer, or not answer. 

"It is quite simple," Mahel Sivaraya said then, his voice measured and strong. "It is imperative for the Empire to know the mood of the New Republic's citizens before it makes a direct effort at improving relations to your nation. We would not want to embarrass your politicians by making an offer at an inopportune moment. The supposed terrorist threat at Bakura seemed most likely to yield a first inkling of what is going on in the New Republic."

"Not just a bodyguard, then," Teer Shikay murmured, loud enough to be heard all around the table.

"No," Kattaran added with a cold smile. "A spy, more likely. Know your enemy, is that not so?"

Mahel refused to rise to the bait, though, surprising Jacen even more. "Know your ally, more likely," the Yuuzhan Vong answered, a tentative smile on his face. "And as member of the NRI you will know what else has brought us here."

  
Kattaran gave a low snort. "The assassination attempts, of course. So the Empress sent her daughter abroad where she would be safer? To a planet that is supposedly threatened by terrorists?"

"That was my own choice," Luzaya injected hastily. "Not my mother's." She threw a pleading glance at Mahel. "If she finds out …" Trailing off, the princess, stared down at her plate, blushing ever so slightly. 

Jacen saw pity flash in Shikay's eyes as he moved to break the embarrassed silence permeating the room. "Anyway," he began, in a ridiculously cheerful tone, "I do not believe we should begin these relations on such an aggressive basis. We would certainly appreciate honest information, if you are prepared to give it," he added, and gazed at Mahel expectantly.

"If we are prepared," the young warrior replied.

It became a very silent dinner, Jacen thought. And nothing had been resolved once the meal ended. Perhaps, though, Luzaya would be willing to talk to him later, and explain this mess.

After the dinner was finished, Luzaya did not meet Mahel's eye as they were both escorted to what would be her cabin on board the Freedom. She had been such a fool! She had believed she could handle this discussion with Shikay, but she had neither been aware of Alowyn Kattaran's knowledge nor been prepared for his hatred toward the Sith Empire and especially Naas Deron. It had come down to her bodyguard having to save her. And he had shown her clearly that she was not the diplomat or politician she had thought she could be. Chastised, she was trying not to let her shame show all too much. It was all right with Mahel, who never let his own emotions show in public, but she just knew hat Jacen and Jaina would be wondering about her intentions, and perhaps she would even lose their trust. 

"Your Highness," the man who had brought them along said, stopping in front of a door. "This will be your quarters."

"Would it be possible for my bodyguard to stay here as well?" the princess asked, seeking confirmation with Mahel as she gazed at him. The Yuuzhan Vong nodded almost imperceptibly, and the navy officer nodded his agreement.

"Of course. That will not be a problem. I will have Mister Sivaraya's luggage brought up."

Thank you," Luzaya replied graciously, as the man keyed open the door and handed the key-card to her. "Will we be allowed to walk around the ship?" she added.

The soldier inclined his head again. "Certainly. We will tell you, if there is somewhere you ought not to be. If you wish to travel to Bakura, you can make arrangements with the first deck officer."

Mahel pushed past the man and entered the cabin first, already checking the quarters for any unusual items, Luzaya guessed. "Excellent," she told the officer, thanked him again, then walked in after her bodyguard and let the door close behind her. For a moment she stood like that, then took a deep breath and said, "Go ahead. Tell me that I am a fool. I know I've deserved it."

"A fool?" Mahel did not look at her, he was still busy checking the apartment. "No. No fool," he continued in a gentle tone. "Ignorant, perhaps. Naive. But you are here to learn, remember?"

Luzaya smiled. A few weeks ago he would never have dreamed of talking to her so boldly. He had learned too, she thought, and in a way she was responsible for that. He loved her, she knew that. And, in a way, she was very fond of him too. "Are you critising me?" she asked nevertheless, a challenge in her voice.

"Critisise you?" He turned his head then, a wry smile on his lips. "I do not believe this is worth a challenge. We can talk. As friends. You know that. And I did think it was ignorant and naive of you to raise the stakes so high without your having prepared your answers beforehand." 

His tone was calm, but his words hurt her nevertheless. Luzaya rubbed a hand over her eyes, then grimaced disdainfully. With a heavy sigh, she settled into one of the soft chairs spread out through the cabin. "I know, I know," she whispered at last. "But I do not know what we can do here, really. And since it was your decision, perhaps you could tell me now. It's not as if you still had to uphold the illusion of being no more than my bodyguard."

"Am I more? And if so, what am I? To you?" he asked, very bluntly.

Surprised, Luzaya raised her head to look up at him. He stood very straight, as if bracing for a blow, a reprimand. But he refused to let his anxiety show more than that. The princess wondered why he was raising this question now of all times. What was he planning that required him to know exactly where he stood with her? 

Suspicious, Luzaya leaned forward in her seat, her pale eyes narrowed. "You call yourself my friend," she explained. "That includes confiding in one another, I suppose. I have done that, back on Naboo. Will you now confide in me what it is you are planning?"

"Not here." He shook his head. "Not now. But I believe you should pay a visit to the President of Bakura, or whatever they call their planetary leader here. A formal audience, if you will."

With a soft laugh, the princess leaned back in her chair again. "I do believe that Colonel Kattaran was right after all. Deron is still trying to guide me. Is that not so?" Mahel simply inclined his head, and remained like that until she said, "Please, spare me this ridiculous show. If you say I should make that visit, I will consider it."

"That is all I ask."

Jaina ignored her brother's frantic motions that were meant to shush her into silence as she confronted Alowyn Kattaran. The NRI colonel was patiently listening to her elaborating on the reasons of why he should take them along to join his investigations on Bakura's surface, but she could sense that he was fairly unimpressed by her account.

"Miss Solo," he interrupted her at last, "I am certain that you mean well, you and your brother both, but let's face it: the Council did not send you here to go into the action, but simply to show presence of the Council itself. You are simply not experienced enough."

Jaina flashed him a very thin smile. "Colonel, I am well aware of that. But we cannot gain more experience by sitting pretty and doing nothing. There must be _some_ insignificant task you can give us," she insisted.

He shrugged. "Of course. First, I would advise you to pay a visit to the Bakuran president, to show the Council's good will. It is all show anyway. Until you're back, I'll try to find you something, all right?"

"Splendid!" Jaina gave an enthusiastic nod, then turned away and left, dragging her brother with her. "What a twerp," she hissed under her breath when she was certain Kattaran could no longer hear them. 

"Why're you so anxious to go down on the surface anyway?" Jacen asked quietly, looking truly curious.

Jaina gave him a surprised look. "I thought you of all people would realise why. Luzaya and Mahel are going down, and I bet they are up to something. I want to know what that is. Besides, we _are_ official ambassadors of the Council of Naboo," she added. "Kattaran is right. We'd best play that role if we are to accomplish anything at all."

She saw Jacen give a thoughtful nod, and together they made their way to their own ship, to prepare their visit to Bakura's capital. An appointment had to be made first, and as it turned out they were already being expected, much to Jaina's annoyance. She suspected that either Al'than'erudo or her grandfather had pre-arranged their meeting with the Bakuran president. 

"I sure hope they won't be holding our hands all the way," she growled softly to herself, and Jacen laughed at her petulant expression.

"Don't think so, sister," he replied cheerfully. "I'm sure that whatever mess we happen to cause we can clear up ourselves. If it is not too bad."

Jaina pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You know," she said, "I got the feeling that a mess is what Al'than'erudo _expects_ to come out of this mission."

"So, if anything happens we're innocent?" Jacen inquired with a dead-pan expression on his face. 

"Let's hope it does mean exactly that. And now I believe we should prepare for that meeting. We don't have that much time left. Luzaya and Mahel have gone down already?" she continued conversationally. 

But Jacen practically leaped out of his co-pilot's chair to lean toward the ship's comm lead, that now connected them to the Freedom's own information center. "Yep," he announced shortly thereafter, "They've left an hour ago."

"Then we should hurry, right?" Jaina asked, a smirk on her lips. 

It was a couple of hours later that their ship was directed toward the landing pad. Jaina guided the ship down, while Jacen was hurriedly trying to find out where Luzaya and Mahel had berthed their ship. As it turned out, the two of them had come on one of the Freedom's shuttles, and that had returned after it had put its passengers down at their landing site. A military port, as Jacen announced to his sister in a somewhat stunned voice. 

"A military port?" Jaina echoed her twin, frowning. 

Why would they land there of all places? Was Teer Shikay trying to demonstrate that he was willing to contribute his share to the relations between the Sith Empire and the New Republic by providing protection for the princess? Or was he worried about a single Yuuzhan Vong warrior? Hardly that. Mahel Sivaraya was young, only a little older than Luzaya herself. What danger could he pose, all by himself? 

"The port is north of our position," Jacen explained. "They'll have a long way to get to the city center."

Jaina settled the ship into its final position and began to power down the engines. "So we'll be there ahead of them?"

"Possibly." Unstrapping from his flight harness Jacen stood and wriggled out from the co-pilot's chair. "I'll go and have a peek outside," he announced, then vanished aft.

It was only a few moments later that Jaina heard the explosion.

"Jaina! Jaina!" Jacen came running back instantly, his face pale. "There's been an accident!" he called out to her, waving for her to join him. "I've got a very bad feeling about this!"

Together they made their way to the ship's lowered landing ramp, and Jaina could see soldiers scrambling from their posts. A number of them were coming toward the twins at a dead run, weapons held at the ready in a defensive position.

"What's happening?" Jaina called out, ignoring the blaster rifles. 

"An attack on the princess' convoy," one of the guards informed them briskly. "We have no details as of yet."

"Luzaya!" Jacen exclaimed, and paled considerably. He tried to push past the guards surrounding them, but they held fast.

"Please, Jedi Solo, this is not the time for rash action. We are here to protect you," the man who had first addressed them explained. 

Jacen gave him a withering glare. "Protect us? What from?"

"Colonel Kattaran's orders," the older man replied, and his expression made it clear that he would not say anything further on that matter. 

"Do you mean you are to protect us from the colonel's orders, or that the colonel ordered you to protect us?" Jaina asked nevertheless, taking some delight in that minute cruelty.

The soldier was unfazed. "I am certain you know what I mean," he explained coolly. "If you would accompany us? The president is waiting for you."

"Now?" Jacen exclaimed, startled. "But if the princess has been hurt, we need to be there!"

"We will of course accompany you," Jaina cut in, almost angry at her brother for this all too emotional reaction. They had a mission, for Force's sake! The look her brother gave her was extremely cold, but she refused to be intimidated by that. She was the older sibling, after all. "Keeping the president waiting is the last thing on our mind. Am I right, Jacen?"

"Right," he growled, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly. Obviously this was his way of showing her that from now on the mission would be her mess, whatever happened.

"If that is settled," the soldier put in diplomatically. "Let's go."

Jacen was in a foul mood as he followed Jaina and the soldiers deeper into the main building. Who did she think she was? Ha! He was torn between righteous anger and worry over Luzaya. If she was hurt, they would surely bring her to the medical facilities of the governmental complex, or would they? And then, they might also take her to a military hospital, to ensure her safety. Or would they? His eyes were constantly searching the hallways, watching for any clue as to what might have happened. But no one they passed seemed the least agitated. Very reluctantly Jacen told himself that with Mahel by her side Luzaya had to fear very little. He never would have thought that he might be grateful for the Yuuzhan Vong's dutiful presence at the princess' side. 

Yet he was also convinced that there was something not quite right about Sivaraya. Why had he insisted on going to Bakura with Luzaya? Jacen had a hard time already coming to terms with the fact that the heir to the Sith Empire was accompanied by a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. It did not make his uneasiness any better that he was probably not the only one feeling uneasy about the Yuuzhan Vong. He had heard the stories about the Yuuzhan Vong invasion twenty years ago, when the New Republic and the Empire had had to fight together to throw back the aggressors. And it had been a very close thing too. Even the tactical genius of Grand Admiral Thrawn had stood helpless in the face of the aliens' might. Still, Jacen was also aware of the fact that he had never heard the horror tales about the Yuuzhan Vong from his own family, even though his parents, his uncle and his grandparents had been in the midst of the terrible struggle. 

But the newsgrids would forever repeat the documentaries about the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, their culture, and Jacen had watched on in fascination when he had been little. And even though he had also listened closely to what his mother and grandfather had told him of the history of this alien race, of their connection to the Sith, he still felt strangely afraid whenever he was around a Yuuzhan Vong. No, Mahel Sivaraya was not the first of his species he had met. But the most curious, admittedly. The young warrior had seemingly refused to have his skin and flesh redecorated by decorative and honorary scars. And had risked his elders' wrath for that, Jacen knew. Or perhaps times truly were changing, and the Yuuzhan Vong were finally adapting to the culture of the empire that had conquered their people. Conquered peacefully in the end, by non other than the Empress herself. No small part of Jacen's admiration for Luzaya derived from the fierce respect he had for her mother. Perhaps, in no such a small way, he had been influenced in that regard by the female role-models featured in his own family, from his grandmother downward. 

In the depth of his heart Jacen knew that he wanted a woman who could equal his grandmother's strength, his mother's wisdom, and his sister's temper. Luzaya seemed to encompass all that. And he thought he knew her. Or thought he did. Which reminded him that they had to inform Yana Dar first of all. At once.

"Mahel!" 

Waving her hand frantically in front of her face, Luzaya tried to disperse the thick smoke that hung heavily in the air around her. There had been a heavy impact of something against her speeder, and an explosion to follow. She had been thrown back into her seat quite brutally, and then she had blackened out for what had seemed just a moment. But when she had come to Mahel had been gone, and the speeder had been filled with black smoke. It was almost impossible to see and to breathe.

"Mahel!" she called again, more frantic now. With tears streaming from her burning eyes she clawed at the crash webbing that had prevented her from receiving more injury. As it was, she only felt a little dizzy. Which she was thankful for.

"I am here, I am here," she heard her bodyguard say then, softly, and something appeared out of the smoke, bearing some resemblance to the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Apart from the nasty gashes slashed across the left side of his face and the blistered burn that oozed nasty-looking fluid down from the crown of his head. 

"Oh my stars!" the princess exclaimed, truly shocked. Reaching up to touch his face she found her wrist taken into his hand firmly as he dragged her upright.

"No matter," he said sternly, and gently lifted her up in his arms. "We gotta leave quickly."

Luzaya was too dazed to think clearly, or she would have questioned him earlier. Why would he not wait for rescue to arrive? The smoke receded as they left the wrecked speeder, and the princess noticed a few motionless bodies lying in a half-circle around the wreckage. "Oh," she said, but managed no more. Mahel carried her into the thicket at the edge of the road, and she remembered now that they had been on their way from the military port to the city center. She took a deep breath, grateful for the fresh air after the stinging smoke. They were in the outskirts of the city now, she thought.

"Calm now," she heard her bodyguard whisper, and she wondered briefly about his secrecy. "Don't say a word."

Luzaya felt herself being settled down onto soft, cool grass. Self-consciously she raised a hand to touch her cheek and found her skin to be alarmingly hot. Shocked, she thought she might have received severe burns. She imagined herself, hideously disfigured, and started crying again. Instantly, Mahel was beside her again.

"Are you hurt badly?" he asked concernedly, and Luzaya felt her temper rise.

"Why are you asking now?" she hissed viciously. "What happened anyway?"

"Not what I had planned," he murmured, chastened. "It was an ambush."

With horrifying clarity Luzaya recalled the corpses she had seen spread out around the destroyed speeder and her bodyguard's strange behaviour. "Mahel," she said, breathless. "What _happened_?"

"I told you we needed to give us a chance to move in secret," he reported quickly. "I had planned on faking your kidnapping, but this proves that I would have been too late anyway."

She propped herself up on her elbows, frowning at him. "We've been attacked. Is that what you are saying?"

"Indeed."

"Oh my stars!" Luzaya closed her eyes and settled back again. "This is a nightmare!"

Mahel seemed unfazed. "No, not at all. We only have to take the opportunity and disappear."

"They'll be looking for us," she retorted sourly. "And we'll be without the New Republic's protection. Mahel, I hate to say this, but this is not the best plan you could have conceived."

"You wanted to learn something of life," he replied coolly. "This is your chance, princess."  
  


Taken aback by his tone, Luzaya sat up quickly, and groaned. And now she had a headache too! "This is not funny!" she called out, truly angry now.

"I didn't say it was," the Yuuzhan Vong told her calmly. Can you walk? We have to move on."

"You killed those people out there?" she asked, hesitating to take his offered hand.

He stared at her, uncomprehending. "Of course. They were attacking us."

"And where is the balance in that?" she demanded, referring to their shared faith.

Mahel threw her a quick grin. "I have my own spirit guardian with me. I am certain you will tell me," he replied good-naturedly. "And now we should be leaving."

"Where will we be going?"

"I have an idea," he assured her, and Luzaya felt that what he rather should have said was: I have no idea. As it was, she would be proven right about that.

Mahel felt slightly worried about the obvious suspicion Luzaya harbored toward his plan. He had to admit to himself that she was right in some regards. The decision to withdraw from New Republic protection would make them more vulnerable, even though it would also give them more freedom of movement. If they could retain their anonymity. Which, admittedly, was a little hard in his own case. The Yuuzhan Vong citizens of the Sith Empire rarely travelled beyond the borders of their realm and therefore his presence would certainly draw attention. As he trotted ahead, keeping to the shadows of the pretty back alleys of the city's outskirts, he mused about what to do. There was still time to go back, to pretend that they had escaped on their own. Mahel would report that he had removed the princess from the site of destruction to ensure her safety. They would question his motives, but he knew that their ignorance toward his people's culture would prevent them from questioning too closely. But if they returned with this story to back them up, their enemies would be warned and move more cautiously. That Mahel wanted to prevent. He did not want their foes to retreat even further into the shadows. It was hard enough to draw them out as it was. Now he had a lead, and could move more swiftly while they believed both Luzaya and him dead. But he to get on their trail now, at once, before Bakuran security and New Republic troops made a mess of the investigations. 

"Mahel!" He stopped, turned his head to gaze at the princess. She was catching up to him, huffing with indignation and exhaustion. Self-consciously she wiped a strand of sweaty, soot-covered blonde hair from her forehead. Her blue eyes were sparkling. Once she had reached his side she propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head in a challenging gesture.  "Where are we going?"

"There's a small port I intend to use as base of operations. We need to secure a vessel to be able to leave too," he explained, bracing himself for what he needed to tell her next. "And I need you to make certain we have that transport. I am Yuuzhan Vong," he continued, "and you can move unknown, while I will always stand out."

For a moment she remained in shocked silence. "A well thought out plan," she offered then, ironically, and began walking again, shaking her head. "And that is what you propose for us to do?"

"We need to investigate this incident now, at once," Mahel urged her. "And I am here to protect you."

Luzaya threw him a questioning glance. "You believe that will be enough? You are a reasonable person, Mahel. You are an adept fighter, I am sure. But you are alone. I will not be able to help you fight."

Crestfallen, Mahel gazed at her, realizing that he had underestimated her courage badly. She must have noticed his dejected expression, for suddenly she was with him again, her hand lying gently on his arm. "I do not require you to fight," he said at last, "all I want is for you to support our quest. I thought you wanted this. I thought you wanted to find out who tried to kill your father."

She gave a helpless shrug. "Yes, of course," the princess replied. "But can't you see how difficult this is for me? I have no experience, and the New Republic officials do not truly respect my authority. You've heard Captain Shikay and this Colonel Kattaran. They think I'm a spy! That Deron is behind our mission!"

"He is. In a sense," Mahel confessed then, sensing that her confusion at her situation needed to be eased.

Luzaya stared at him, speechless. "What?" A frown marred her forehead then. "You mean that he was behind your assignment as my bodyguard? I know that. But that is all! He only wants to keep me safe!"

"He wanted you to leave Byss."

"Why?" she asked. "Why would he want that? My _mother_ sent me away! Or are you suggesting that she did so on Deron's orders?"

"Not orders. A request," Mahel corrected her. "I thought about this when Andarack clan Rim'kai put us through that little test of his. He wanted to bait whoever was after your father. Deron is doing the same. I even believe that he is in league with the Council in that regard."

"You _want_ to make me distrust anyone, am I right?" she accused him. "You want me to trust you alone."

"I want you to trust the Cor'dan. He knows what is going on, I think. He is your guardian spirit, just as you are mine," he told her, trying a smile.

But Luzaya almost exploded at that faithful comment. "What! My guardian spirit? That man? Hah! He does not even care for what I feel! Why should he want to protect me?" 

"Sh!" Mahel cautioned her. They had reached a more populated neighbourhood now, and Mahel was anxious about being discovered. "I cannot accompany you further. I have to find another way to follow." 

"A-ha!" Luzaya exclaimed. "Now you refuse to protect me!"

Mahel replied, "Don't be ridiculous, please." A mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. 

Luzaya's bright blue eyes turned very cold, and for a moment she resembled her mother more than ever. She took a step back, away from him, and crossed her arms over her chest. 

"Ridiculous?" she said, her tone icy. "I am ridiculous? You were the one with the grandiose plan, Mahel Sivaraya. _You_ are my short-sighted bodyguard. _You_ insist on rejecting the New Republic's help. But without me. Do what you want," she declared at last. "I am going back."

For a moment he was stunned. 

Luzaya stalked away into the street, deliberately seeking the open to prevent Mahel from following her. The young Yuuzhan Vong warrior hesitated. What to do? Scanning the rooftops he saw that he would have little chance of using the roofs to hide his presence. He needed to take a more circuitous route. Which was when he ran into trouble. 

Slipping into the darkness of the alleyway that ran behind the port he had selected for their base, Mahel was totally surprised when a stun blast hit his left side and momentarily confused his nervous system. Then something hit his left arm, and the force of the impact whirled him around brutally. The next thing he knew was that two arms locked about his torso, pinning his own arms to his sides. A human male, by the smell of him. Mahel felt a little amused by the fact that his attacker was frantically trying to hang on, obviously too short to keep his feet on the ground. But then, with surprising alacrity, the man wrapped his legs around Mahel's calves, trying to topple him over. Hampered in his movements, the Yuuzhan Vong warrior fell to his knees, but rolled around on his back, eliciting a curse from his yet unseen attacker. Without any hesitation whatsoever Mahel rammed his right elbow into the man's soft neck, then rose to his feet in a semi-crouch, ready to strike again. His opponent seemed momentarily dazed, and his left hand was locked protectively around his own neck. Blue eyes bulging, he shook a mane of graying dark brown hair, then sat back on his haunches, apparently deciding that it was not worth the effort to fight any longer.

Mahel stood up and frowned at the human suspiciously. The man had no weapons he could see. But he'd had a blaster, hadn't he? Where was it? "Who are you?" the young Yuuzhan Vong demanded.

"You're good," the stranger said instead of answering the question. "Quick reflexes, too."

"Tell me who you are," Mahel growled, his patience leaving him. He could not let himself be stalled! He could not risk exposure at this point of time, and he had to get back to the princess at once!

The man's lined face crinkled around his eyes and mouth when he smiled, giving him an almost mischievous look. "I think I know what you feel right now," he declared. "But unfortunately I cannot just let you go like that."

Mahel recoiled as the human whipped his left hand behind his back, and at the same time extended his right arm and blinded the young warrior with a glow-light he had concealed in his right palm. Mahel threw his arms over his face in a defensive gesture, hunching his shoulders ever so slightly. He could hear the human approach fast, sensing a weakness in his opponent. But then the Yuuzhan Vong flung his long limbs apart again, catching the man full across the chest. His body smacked into the wall unceremoniously, and Mahel could sense the human's muscles go slack as he fell to the hard ground. Quickly, the warrior crouched above his prey and flipped out his ID reader. This particular piece had been uploaded with the latest data from the Yun-Harla sect's databases. If this human was known, his identity would no longer remain a secret once the reader had drawn blood. But Mahel did not get quite that far. Too late he noticed the slight vibration of the permacrete beneath his feet, before something cool and hard was shoved against the base of his neck.

"Put your face in the dust, Vong," a female voice ordered harshly. "And drop that thing, whatever it is." She pressed the weapon harder into his flesh to emphasize her demand. 

Mahel did not take long to find that he really had no choice. Carefully, he set the ID reader down beside him, where it was promptly crushed beneath the woman's boot heel. He winced at that senseless execution of life, even if it had been only a primitive life-form. 

"Get down," the woman said again. "Now. Or do you need help? I could shoot you right here and now."

"Do that and you are dead. Both of you," a new voice announced very calmly.

Mahel gasped aloud, totally surprised by that voice. It was Luzaya! What was the princess doing here? And where had she gotten a weapon from? Torn between joy and bewilderment, he remained kneeling on the ground even when the pressure against the back of his neck had been released. 

"This is none of your business – ," the woman who had captured him snarled, turning to face the princess. Mahel made his move instantly. Whirling around, he made a grab for her legs, bearing her to the ground with him. 

"Mahel! Mahel, let her go!" Luzaya screamed then, sounding almost hysteric, and suddenly Mahel found his arms grabbed by two sets of female hands, and quickly released his quarry again. Confused, he retreated a bit, and threw a stern glance down at his charge. Luzaya was holding the other woman in a close embrace, a concerned look on her pretty face. The stranger was an older human woman, dressed all in figure-hugging black, and rubbing her forehead with the palm of her left hand angrily. Her red hair had been fashioned into a bun at the base of her neck, and her emerald green eyes were throwing furious sparks as she continued gazing at Mahel. 

"Aunt Mara," the princess whispered, "are you all right?"

"I am pretty much all right," the woman named Mara replied gruffly, but her features were softening somewhat as she turned her head to look at Luzaya. "It's Jix who got in the way of that brute. Are you two together?"

Luzaya seemed to blush, but it was hard to tell in the shadows of the alley. "He's my bodyguard;" she explained quietly. But then her pale eyes turned on Mahel, their megawatt gaze drilling into him like a thermal detonator. "What in Sith's hells were you thinking!" she demanded, furious. "These are _friends_!"

"Really?" It was curiously easy to regain his composure in the face of her foolish righteousness. "They did not introduce themselves as such," Mahel explained dryly. 

Saying nothing, she compressed her full lips into a tight line, much to the Yuuzhan Vong's regret, and hurried over to where the man still lay unmoving. "He's unconscious," the princess announced then. "Mahel, you idiot!" Raising her chin haughtily, she threw him a withering glare. "These are Mara Jade and Wrenga Jixton. They've been friends of my family for _ages_." 

"A fact that was not known to me, and which still does not explain why they are here and why they attacked me like this," Mahel reasoned calmly. 

"Did Mother send you?" Luzaya asked, suddenly seeming suspicious, as she addressed Mara Jade again.

The red-haired woman shook her head, her eyes never leaving the human male. "No, she did not. Han wanted to know what was going on with your father, and sent us to investigate a bit."

_Han_? Mahel felt a shiver run down his back. What was Han Solo doing on Bakura? Had the Council of Naboo betrayed them too? 

Mara Jade must have noticed his shock, for she gave him a wry smile and rose along with Luzaya. "Not Han Solo," she said, as if reading his mind. "I was referring to His Revered Highness, the Chiss Emperor Ja'han'mandana."

"The _Chiss_?" Mahel felt his jaw drop. 

"Yes," Mara Jade said dismissively, then returned her attention to Luzaya. "And what about you, Luzaya? Why are you here?"

"A diplomatic mission," the princess explained, but her face fell when she realized how foolish that sounded right then and there. "No, we are here to investigate too. There's been hints that the conspiracy originates in the New Republic."

"Is that so," Jade replied. "Then why are you on a backwater world like Bakura?"  
  


"It was a more convenient staging area for a vanishing coup such as this one," Mahel explained. "Which is where we should part," he added meaningfully, nodding at Luzaya.

She gave him a thoughtful look, then studied the unconscious man lying beside Mahel again. "No. We can trust them," she said. "We must trust them, Mahel. They can help us, and they won't betray us. "

"So sure about that?" he challenged both women. 

Luzaya stuck her chin out. "Very. And now you will pick up Jix and come with us. I am sure Mara has a ship somewhere close by. We can take that one. Right, Aunt Mara?"

"Right. And if I may suggest, we should go straight to Coruscant," the older woman suggested.

"What?" Mahel snarled. "Are you mad? I am trying to draw her out of the line of fire, if you haven't noticed!"

Mara Jade returned his gaze coolly. "You do not know Yana Dar half as well as I do," she told him, "and not half as much of politics. This will spark trouble. Big trouble. Better to be at the center of it than caught in the middle of the storm. Come along, you two. Don't forget my husband, if you will," she added. "Poor Jix. This has to be the first time in years that someone managed to defeat him in single combat. He'll be so furious when he wakes up."

"I hope I haven't hurt him too badly," Mahel mumbled, feeling apologetic all of a sudden.

Mara Jade threw him a wide grin. "Don't worry. He's always had a thick head."

Before he bent down to hoist the unconscious human up, Mahel saw Luzaya stand very still, her face a study of concern. A moment later she asked, "What do you mean, Aunt Mara? What trouble? What do you know of my mother that I don't?

"She is her father's daughter, Luzaya. Always remember that."

TBC


	13. Decisions

Jaina found it quite disturbing to see how many similarities there were between Luzaya and her mother. The same height, the same figure, the same face, almost. But contrary to pretty, flirtatious Luzaya, Empress Yana Dar was a stern-looking woman with bright blue eyes and a shock of very curly hair with a lot of white strands mixed into the original blonde. Dressed in loose-fitting breeches and a black blouse, she still exuded a lot of power, and Jaina could see that her brother was having some difficulty keeping his composure as he reported the most recent happenings on Bakura and what they might mean for Luzaya.

"That I all I can tell you so far, Your Majesty," he was just saying, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "She's vanished, and both the NRI and Bakuran Security are looking for her."  
  


"What about her bodyguard?" Yana Dar inquired, her surprisingly deep voice remarkably calm. "Did he vanish along with her?"

Jacen nodded. "Yes." He hesitated, obviously hesitant to spin his own thoughts further. 

"What more can you tell me?" the Empress pressed him gently, and gave an encouraging nod. "Are there any hints, trails to follow?"

"Security found a number of bodies at the site of the accident. They are currently busy identifying those. That is all I can say," he repeated and shrugged helplessly. "I am sorry. I wish there were more I could give you. More information, some hope."

A brief smile appeared on the Empress' lips. "I appreciate your concern, Jacen Solo," she declared gravely. "And I appreciate your willingness to investigate this matter. But, please, I know that your assignment was a directive given by the Council of Naboo. I would ask you to wait for instructions from Naboo, before you act. And, if you can, keep me posted on happenings on Bakura. That is all. Again, thank you." And with a final nod of her head the connection to Byss broke.

  
Immediately Jacen spun around to face his sister, who had been witnessing the exchange seated outside of the transmission field of the holoproj. "What do you say?" he asked, his eyes betraying his earnest concern. "How did she take it?"

"You tell me," Jaina mumbled. "You're better at reading emotions than I am," she added softly.

"I am not sure whether she's coping as well as she wants to make us believe."

"We're strangers to her. She would not lay her emotions bare before us," Jaina cautioned him. 

"Strangers?" He paused, seemingly thoughtful. "Yes. I guess we are that. But she trusts the truth of our words, doesn't she?"

"Possibly. She asked after Mahel, did you notice?"

Jacen nodded mutely, then went to join his sister. "Perhaps," he began slowly, "she knows something we don't. If Luzaya has been kidnapped, would the kidnappers not have killed her bodyguard? And what if it was Mahel himself who kidnapped her? What if this conspiracy that threatens Franzis Sarreti was spun by some Yuuzhan Vong malcontents?"

"And he is part of that conspiracy?" Jaina shook her head firmly. "No, I don't think so. Naas Deron would never have approved of that, and he would have known, I am certain of that."  
  


"Now you trust a Sith?" Jacen snorted. "He's Cor'dan. Deception is second nature to them." 

She gave her brother a very cool look. "Grandfather is not like that;" she chided him. "And you don't know Deron at all. How can you judge him like that?"

"Because I know I am right," he snapped, angry. "I've heard the stories. He's not a very nice person."

"Neither was Grandfather," she reminded him. "For a time." 

"Are you really trying to compare them with each other?" he exclaimed, then threw his hands up in disgust. "You're generalising, Jaina. I say we treat Mahel as suspect, just as we treat any other suspicious person as such. And if he somehow survived the attack and brought her into safety, he'll check back with the empress soon, I'm sure. Until then, we should try our best to find out what is really going on."

"Yes," she answered grimly. "Let's. I suggest we contact Mother at once. _And_ Grandfather."

Anakin Skywalker was not a happy man. In fact, he was even worse than unhappy. He was furious. Which, considering the circumstances, was to be regretted. It had been only this morning that Nuron and her son Khameir had arrived on board the Millennium Falcon along with Han. His daughter-in-law, her golden eyes earnest as ever, had for once lost her composure, when her little daughter had welcomed her to Naboo. It had been a heart-warming sight, watching the fierce Zabrak wrap Amerie in her arms, so much joy on her face. Both he and Padmé had been looking forward to enjoying a few quiet days with Luke's family, now that Leia had returned to Coruscant and Jacen and Jaina had shortened their vacation to take on a mission for the Council. But again fate had played a cruel trick upon them. It had been Al'than'erudo who had brought the bad news, in person, which had been even more worrisome than his unannounced visit.

And now, seated in front of his datapad, Anakin was scowling at the screen fiercely, busy synchronizing this new information with the Seeker's extensive database. The program was running as smoothly as ever, but still the former Dark Lord cursed it for being too slow to accommodate his impatience. 

"Get moving, old man," he said under his breath, his fingertips dancing nervously on the flat surface of the table before him.

"Any progress?"

Turning his head he watched Padmé walk toward him, carrying a tray in both hands. Atop it sat a mug and a pitcher of something warm. "Tea," she explained, as if reading his mind. Which she probably had. Long years of marriage could do that to wives. And husbands, for that matter. 

"You're as worried as I am," Anakin stated, "but you don't have to deal with this mess. Thanks," he added, as she sat the tray down beside the screen. 

One hand propped on her hip, Padmé regarded him steadily for a while, then sat on a chair beside the table. "Worried?" she asked. "No. Furious. Annoyed. I am certain that Yana will be able to deal with this filth."

"I hope so," her husband replied gloomily. "But the Seeker predicts trouble for the Empire. I have a feeling that this is the spark."

"Bad publicity?" Padmé smiled. "It would not be the first time she'd have to deal with criticism."

"True," he agreed. "But still –"

  
The chime of his commlink interrupted his thoughts and as he picked it up he recognized the code immediately. It was Leia. "Dear, what is it? You've heard the news?" he asked without preamble.

"I have heard even worse," the princess answered, sounding very serious. "Jacen's just called. Luzaya has vanished, perhaps kidnapped."

Icy shock gushed his mind instantly. "Mahel?"

"Her bodyguard?" she asked. "He's gone too. You do not think that this is the beginning of what you told us, do you?" 

"I cannot think of anything else," her father replied wearily. "I will be talking to the Council tonight, to come to a resolution. As Al'than'erudo said, this does not come entirely as a surprise to us. I wish it were not like that," he added softly.

Leia was silent for a while. Then she said, "Yana can deal with this, can't she? She's no weakling, and she has Franzis and Deron to aid her."

"Deron might not do anything at all. I am not certain what will happen," Anakin sighed. "Worse, though, is that this will sully the Council's reputation and might sever what bonds to the Empire we do retain. Yana could take this as an insult, when she hears where this information comes from."

"And Luke has travelled into her realm," Leia continued his thoughts unbidden. "She would not dare harm him, would she?"

Anakin shook his head, noticing his wife's concerned face out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly another thought struck him. "Jacen hasn't informed Yana of Luzaya's disappearance, has he?"

"I think he said he did inform her, first thing he did," Leia replied hesitantly. "Why?"

"Oh my stars," the former Cor'dan groaned. "That's like pouring oil into the flame. She's angry enough as it is!"

"Father," the princess interrupted him, "we have to do something. Quickly. Where will you be sending Jacen and Jaina  next?"

"That is not my decision," he explained. "Al'than'erudo will decide. Tonight, if I am any judge. But, Leia, do you understand that this is the time for you to prove your commitment? You must make your stance clear, even in the Senate. Especially in the Senate."

"I know," she said. "Send Han back to me. I'll need him. We'll talk again soon. Give Mother a kiss from me, all right?"

"Right," he whispered, as she disconnected the call. 

Padmé shared her husband's feelings on current matters fully. But there was too little she could see they could do! At noon today Coruscant time the anti-Imperial faction of the New Republic Senate had dropped the bomb on Yana Dar in the shape of a well-founded report. 

A report that had been in part supported by findings gained in co-operation with the Council of Naboo. Senator Nah Ry'ley of Bothawui had presented the report right after the discussion on Kashyyk's proposal for increased border patrols towards Imperial Space. He had claimed that recent findings on the world N'zoth had yielded new insight on Yana Dar's motivations during the war against the Yuuzhan Vong. 

These findings, the senator had explained, were reliable proof of an alliance between Roj Kell and Yana's Yuuzhan Vong masters. He had gone on to describe how the genocide of the Yevetha had lent immense power to the late Sith Lord and Cor'dan, and would have allowed him to single-handedly wipe out the entire New Republic fleet along with the Chiss. Only the valiant deeds of Luke Skywalker on Laa'kuan had prevented that from happening. And, to make things worse, Ry'ley had also revealed Mahel Sivaraya's true identity. The son of the dreaded Yuuzhan Vong warmaster Marayl Carr as protector of the Empire's heiress? Unbelievable! The senator had reminded the entire assembly of Yana Dar's captivity on Marayl Carr's worldship, her legendary fight against Overlord Shimmra and the peaceful conquest of the Yuuzhan Vong. All that, he had said, would not have been possible if Yana Dar had not been herself in league with the Yuuzhan Vong. Why else would she have been so forgiving toward her so-called tormentors? Why else would she have proposed integrating these butchers into the galactic community? The benefit was theirs, not hers, evidently. 

It was a right mess.

And with what Anakin had revealed about his own visions concerning the future, things did not bode well for the Sith Empress. Raising her head wearily, Padmé gazed at her husband, who was looking thoughtfully into the distance. He was preoccupied with the news, she knew, and she dearly hoped that he would find a solution, along with Thrawn and Tomas and Al'than'erudo. The Council had to weather this crisis, or it would lose what influence it had gained over the past twenty years. 

Then the door opened almost noiselessly, admitting Nuron into the room. The Zabrak warrior looked disturbed. She, too, had heard the news and understood its meaning. Naturally, she was worried for her husband now, as much as for the peace they had all fought so hard to achieve. 

"Anything new?" she asked quietly, coming closer.

"No," Anakin replied, before Padmé could say a word. "But you should contact Luke and warn him. He must be careful. In fact, it might be best if he were to return."

"What about his mission?" Nuron asked. "What about Deron? We should not leave him unobserved, especially not now."

"True," the former Dark Lord conceded with a nod. "Still, a warning will be in order. And you should accompany us tonight."

"I won't be staying;" she said then, surprising even Padmé.

"Do you truly want to go to Ordesha?" Padmé asked, rising from her seat. 

"Plawal's exploited our findings, Luke's and mine," the Zabrak explained. "I will confront him about this, and about his superiors. I knew there was something suspicious about him," she added, wrinkling her nose delicately. "Besides, I want to tell him he's been wrong. You have the Seeker's translation ready?" she continued, addressing Anakin.

He nodded again, then sat up with a sigh. "Yes. The fragments you gave me do not make much sense, if one does not know enough about the Cor'dan. I do know a lot. It's some sort of prophecy, I would say. And it bears similarities to the messages scrawled into the labyrinth on Laa'kuan."

"Can I see the translation?" Nuron asked, stepping forward to join him.

"Of course. Here." 

Nuron bent over Anakin's shoulder to peer at the screen in front of him. As she read the words aloud, her forehead crinkled into an ever deeper frown, and Padmé could understand why perfectly. She had read the translation herself too, after all. And it had frightened her. 

"The flow of events follows the current of life into death and beyond. But changes are inevitable. Changes in ourselves, our cultures, our dreams and nightmares. But what was taken shall be returned, what was given shall not be reclaimed, what was broken will not be mended. This is not the way. Balance is a matter of give and take, and life punishes those who take too much, even their own lives, for we are one, all of us, and responsible for life as well as death. To bring light into darkness, and darkness into light, is to achieve balance, just as bringing life into death and death into life is balance. Therefore justice is a matter of perspective, when all you can rely on is yourself. To rely only on oneself means to have the dedication, the patience, to carry out a duty we shoulder ourselves. I am guide and guardian, but a teacher no longer. Guided I have this galaxy for as long as I live, and guarded the Heart of Darkness for as long as I could. Now, though, I need to shed this mortal shell. It is a sacrifice I will make gladly. I am tired of this existence after all. Who would have thought? Perhaps my dedication is not all that strong. Sacrifices are made to ensure the future, and weakness must be countered with strength, even if that prowess is only of short endurance. It is like a lever that needs a weight to be able to move anything at all. I will begin the leverage here, on this world. These creatures are beneath me, as bad as the Ju Vong in their stupid little world of death. And they will challenge the stars too, if given leave. Will the stars be able to thwart the attack, so soon after this invasion? I doubt it. Better to take their life now than have them take the lives of those around them. Life means nothing to these creatures, and it means everything to me. But what I take today will be returned when I die. Balance will be restored, for a while. And yet, we have to move further. Changes will come again and again. Will we be prepared? Does it matter if we are? What will survive is what we all are. Life and death, shadow and light. Am I selfish in my belief that individuals do not count at all? I hope not. And yet, I can sense the future. I know that we will survive and be reborn. I know that we will become one at last. Until then, all that is left for me is to release this spirit into death. It cannot be set free alive."

"What does he mean by that?" Nuron asked, scowling.

Turning his head to look at her, Anakin shrugged. "I am not certain."

"What spirit cannot be released alive? Kell's? Why?"

"As I said. I have no idea. Go to Ordesha. Find out what you can about the Jen-People," he continued. "It may be worth a try:" Anakin threw a look at his wrist-chrono, then rose slowly from his seat. "We should get ready for the meeting. Anja will be taking care of the children, won't she?" he asked his wife.

Padmé nodded, then looked over at Nuron. "Certainly. Though I trust Khameir to be able to look out for himself, of course. He's grown so much!"

"That he has," Nuron agreed proudly. "But he's also still a child. A mischievous one at that. If Anja is willing to keep watch over those two, I shall be grateful."

Smiling, Padmé turned away to alert her former secretary of what duties were awaiting her for tonight. Amerie was easy enough to handle, but Khameir truly was a teenager, and he was testing his limits whenever he was out of his parents' sight. 

  
  


Khameir was just a little bit angry at his mother for having left him behind at Varykino, to be watched over by a baby-sitter, as if he were still six years old, like Amerie! And Anja Dumilor, grandmother's former secretary and good friend, had sent him to bed far earlier than he was accustomed to. But she had insisted that he would be leaving on a strenuous journey tomorrow and needed his rest. Ordesha! Eyes gleaming, Khameir had to admit to himself that sleeping truly was not an option while the glittering promise of excitement hung in his dream-filled head like the mythical name of that world, Os'jen'thana. The home planet of the Jen-People, a Sith clan that had perished millennia ago in a crusade of the ancient Jedi Order against its sworn enemies, promised secrets to discover and lots of adventure. Mother had explained to him that her sole reason to travel there was to confront one Doctor Plawal, who had exploited hers and Father's findings on N'zoth to discredit the Sith Empire. Wrongly so, as she had claimed. 

Khameir wondered about that. Wouldn't their siding with the Sith Empire disturb the Council's relations to the New Republic further? Was that why his mother had decided to go to Ordesha alone, without any official backing? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his room's door opening, and he sat up abruptly, only to see the small shadowy outline of his sister amble into the room. Amerie's presence was filled with affection and fear both, and Khameir smiled as the little girl scrambled up to join him on his bed. Wrapping her carefully in his arms he pressed a kiss on her forehead and  asked, "Afraid?"

Amerie gave a foolish giggle and dived underneath his bed-cover, wrapping herself into it like in a tight cocoon. Sighing, her older brother decided to leave her in her hiding place, if she wished it. He drew his knees to his chest and slung his arms around his legs thoughtfully, waiting for her to tell him what was bothering her. Finally, her golden eyes became visible from beneath the cover as she peeked out at him in the darkness, and she whispered, "Is Papa all right?"

"I hope so," Khameir replied, then leaned his back against the wall behind him. "Why do you ask?"

Immediately, Amerie left her cover to kneel before him, her young face beaming with worry. "The bone queen is looking for you, Khammy," she confessed, frightening her brother immensely. 

"What bone queen?" he asked, his breathing becoming ragged. "Why is she looking for me?"

"I don't know," his little sister admitted, casting her eyes down awkwardly. "I'm afraid for you."

"Is she waiting on Ordesha?" he asked, and Amerie gave a tiny nod. Shivering in the darkness, Khameir felt suddenly very young himself. He envisioned some ugly hag of a witch, cackling with laughter and tormenting him. But why? What did she want? Contrary to his parents Khameir never doubted the truth of his sister's dreams and visions. Not since she had predicted that he would share his first kiss with a girl on a windy afternoon on Bilbringi. She had been right, and he, merely twelve years old, had been suitably impressed. "How does she look like?" he asked then, his voice very quiet.

Amerie was immediately roused to the challenge of telling a grand tale, and began to explain with wide gestures and a tone that befitted that of much older story-teller. She was gifted in that too, but so far only her brother had been made witness to those outbursts of creative energy. "She was very tall, a human woman, I think, with black hair that was wild with a storm. It was raining, I think," she added, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Khameir almost smiled at her innocent expression, but then she continued. "She had many necklaces of bones around her neck, and bracelets made of bone too."

"Which was why you named her the bone queen," her brother supplied helpfully. 

She gave a gleeful nod. "And then she called your name. Only very funnily, because she called you Naghasan Khameir Sarin-Skywalker."

"Naghasan? Defender?" Khameir repeated, stunned. This was ancient Sith dialect, taught to him by his mother when he had been a little older than Amerie was now. "Why?" he said, confused.

Amerie shook her head with an indifferent shrug. "I don't know."

Khameir's blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, "And why do you think you should be worried?"

Leaning closer, Amerie cupped her hands around her mouth, the way she liked to do when telling a secret, or something she thought very important, "Because she said that she would possess you. And then the other bone ghost came and joined her."

"What other bone ghost?" her brother asked, his fear returning. 

"A little boy with braids. He was waving at me."

This time Khameir burst out laughing. "A boy? Amerie! Aren't you a little too young to fall in love?"

Crossing her arms over her chest and pushing her chin down toward her breastbone, Amerie glared at him angrily. "You don't believe me," she accused him.

"But I do," he assured her, patting her hair affectionately. "I'll be careful, okay?"

" 'kay," she sighed, then snuggled against him. 

Suddenly the door opened again and Anja Dumilor glared at both of them. Khameir almost suffered a heart-attack at the unexpected visit, then mumbled, "Uhm, can she stay here? I haven't seen her for so long, please?"

"Of course," the woman told him, then closed the door again. 

"Sleep tight," he told little Amerie, and found her golden eyes gazing up at him intently. "What? What is it?"

"Khammy," she said quietly, "I want you to come back all right."

The meeting that night in Theed's royal palace was a somber one. The Council representatives of the five member states had come to the audience chamber even earlier  than planned, betraying their anxiety. But Al'than'erudo, to whom it fell to guide them through this crisis, was as calm as ever. He had anticipated most of what had occurred, thanks to the Seeker and his own analytical abilities. The Chiss made his way across the chamber in silence, seemingly preoccupied and not glancing at anyone assembled in this room to hear his decision. But he was aware of every one of them. There was Ishare Luvo, the Lappa warlord turned ambassador, whose presence was a barely contained fire of suppressed agitation. Al'than'erudo could image how helpless the Lappa male felt. This was not a situation that could be solved with armed forces. Next to him sat Mith'raw'noruodo, representing the Chiss Empire. The former Grand Admiral had undoubtedly already found at least seven possibilities of how to deal with this crisis, but he was keeping his silence, waiting for his younger brethren to voice his opinion first. In truth, Al'than'erudo feared Mith'raw'noruodo's cutting remarks more than anything else today. 

Taking his seat at last, he turned to face the Council and continued his assessment. Tomas Piett, the former President of the Confederate Zone and one of the best diplomats present here, did not seem overly flustered by what had occurred. His presence and manner were calm, but Al'than'erudo saw Tomas shoot a fleeting glance to his left, to where Mon Mothma was seated, looking tight-mouthed and grim. As representative of the New Republic she would have the hardest task of them all, once they had come to a decision and it was time to present it to the New Republic Senate. Obviously, she knew that all too well. But she would not be alone in her quest. Bred Antham, representative of the Sith Empire and among the Council the one with next to no diplomatic experience, would travel with her. 

The Council session today featured three guests. Apart from Anakin Skywalker and his wife, Al'than'erudo's predecessor as Head of the Council, Nuron Sarin-Skywalker had joined them to provide first-hand impressions of what had been presented to the Senate as proof of past crimes that supposedly involved even the Empress Yana Dar. And it was she who was given first opportunity to speak. Nodding at the Zabrak, Al'than'erudo said, "Nuron, we all are aware of what accusations have been offered against the Sith Empire. How much of that can you confirm, if at all?"

Golden eyes unfathomable, she raised her chin in a defiant gesture, and for a moment a flash of anger crossed her mind, making the Chiss wonder. "We accompanied the team of Doctor Plawal of the Sotax Environmental Research Centre to N'zoth," she began, "where he was to investigate the demise of the system's inhabitants, the Yevetha. As is common knowledge, the New Republic had known of this wipe-out for quite a while now, but could not spare the resources to conduct an official investigation. Which was why this private organisation stepped in, according to Plawal. What we found on N'zoth were mass graves, a few dozen of them, and no survivors. This did not come as much of a surprise, but another discovery made us re-evaluate our findings. We first assumed that the man who destroyed the Yevetha, and we are a hundred percent certain that it was indeed Roj Kell, had used their life energies, harvested from their deaths, to power the labyrinth on Laa'kuan. He hinted at that when he spoke to my husband shortly before his death on said world. Yet other evidence speaks against this conclusion. Roj Kell was Cor'dan at the time of his death. And another Cor'dan, his successor Anakin Skywalker, was able to use Laa'kuan's labyrinth without first committing genocide. So there had to have been another purpose behind this deed." Nuron nodded at the assembly, then continued, "I have sent a document to all of you previous to this meeting to study. I would like to discuss that one now, with your permission, Al'than'erudo."

"Certainly. The document is, after all, the crucial factor. If I am informed correctly, this Doctor Plawal claims that it is proof of his conclusion." He activated the holoproj set into the middle of the floor, and a 3D image appeared that allowed every one of the representatives to read the document.

"As you can see," Nuron said, "the first few lines are composed from the philosophy that permeates the Cor'dan's very existence. We know that the Cor'dan is chosen by his predecessor, who has become a tool of the Force when he or she pledged him – or herself to serving as Cor'dan. With Lord Skywalker's help I was able to bring a bit of more sense into the fourth line. Kell speaks here of something taken that will be returned, something given that shall not be reclaimed and something broken that will not be mended." She flashed them a quick smile. "We all know that the late Lord Kell revelled in talking in riddles. But he always left us clues to follow and use to decipher the meaning of his words. The same here. I had no knowledge of this, but Lord Skywalker does. Therefore I suggest he explain this to us."

Her father-in-law gave her an appreciative nod, then rose from his seat to take the floor. "To understand this document one has to understand the nature of the Cor'dan. Becoming Cor'dan means becoming a tool, a shelter, if you will, for the Heart of Darkness. It means giving up part of one self and becoming part of something grander. Certain choices cannot be influenced by the individual. Others can be influenced. This is, by the way, the reason why Naas Deron warned the Council of his future actions. He fears that the choice will not be his, and that he will be endangering innocents. Roj Kell, now, was the oldest Cor'dan ever. I have found out another disturbing fact about the Cor'dan when I took the burden myself. It is disarmament. Because the Cor'dan is a tool for the Force he or she cannot have more power than the Force will grant. The innate surplus of Force-sensitivity will be cut off, a token, if you will, which is claimed for the time the chosen one fulfils the duties as Cor'dan."

"So the Cor'dan is not all powerful?" Mon Mothma asked, frowning.

"What I mean," Anakin Skywalker explained, "Is that not all Cor'dan were Force-sensitive. When they were not, this measure was unnecessary, but when they had the potential, they became a danger to the Force itself, due to the intimate connection shared. Too much damage could have been inflicted, had the Cor'dan retained his or her innate power. I do not know how powerful Roj Kell had been before he became Cor'dan. But I believe that this is what he refers to when he states that was given shall not be reclaimed. He knew he was going to die, so he had no use of his innate power in this life. There might have been another reason for this decision, since he later claims, and he does sound as if he were not himself, that his spirit cannot be set free alive, but only be released into death."

It was Mith'raw'noruodo who spoke then, "But how does that help us solve this crisis? It is still a confession on his part. What I find more interesting is the reference to the Jen Motha, the Yuuzhan Vong. He claims to despise them as much as he does despise the Yevetha, but he decided to spare the one and destroy the other. Given what we know about the connection between the Yuuzhan Vong and the ancient Sith Doctor Pawal's conclusion is logical. Roj Kell decided to spare the Yuuzhan Vong, undoubtedly to strengthen the Empire, which later became the Sith Empire, against the New Republic and her allies. He also knew that the Yevetha would one day also challenge the might of the galaxy's dominating powers, and he wanted to prevent that from happening. The only question that remains is whether Yana Dar was aware of that or not. And if she was not aware, how to prove it." A slow smile spread on his lips as he added, "Roj Kell is dead, and we should leave him that way."

"Well spoken," Al'than'erudo injected then. "Lord Skywalker, Nuron, your information is certainly valuable, but it does not gain us any advantage. We need something that will convince the Senate of ceasing this witch-hunt. Only today news reached me that propose sanctions against the Sith Empire. Which would be only a formal threat on part of the New Republic, since The Chiss will not break their ties with the Sith Empire. So this proposed isolation of the Empire is really a self-isolation of the New Republic. And we can all guess what this will spark in the end. The New Republic will resort to more than threats against the Empire. Unless we can prove that the faction that accuses Yana Dar of sanctioning genocide and oppressing her people is wrong. Which brings us to you, Bred," he continued, "is it true that the Empress had prominent citizens of the Empire imprisoned and questioned?"

Antham almost jumped from his seat at being so suddenly spoken to. But after a moment he answered, "Yes, that is true, but the New Republic news agencies failed to mention that this measure occurred after the murder of the head of the Yun-Harla sect, Elu Cha. The Empress had the heads of all other sects seized and imprisoned."

"You are saying that solely Yuuzhan Vong citizens have been subjected to this measure?" Mon Mothma asked. "That reeks of an attempt at placating the New Republic."

"It might be interpreted that way, but as we can see, whoever is trying to discredit the Empress did not think that far ahead. Else they would have used this in their favour," Padmé Naberrie mused aloud, "So what are they really after? I believe what they are trying to do is not to discredit the Empire itself, but only its ruler." 

"And to what end?" Tomas Piett asked then. "To replace her? But who should succeed her? There is no successor safe for Luzaya Dan. And she has vanished on Bakura – " he stopped himself, a look of horror spreading on his features. "Along with her bodyguard, the late warmaster's youngest son," he finished weakly.

"If you cannot conquer a people with arms, conquer it with words," Mith'raw'noruodo quoted solemnly. "They will be attempting a coup, and use the Yuuzhan Vong as scapegoats. Which means we will have to intervene on behalf of the Yuuzhan Vong citizens." The Chiss turned his head to gaze at Anakin Skywalker, "Which would explain Naas Deron's letter. He might be forced to defend the Yuuzhan Vong against the other Imperial citizens by force"

"So, what do we do?" Ishare Luva snapped, his black eyes glittering. "Send Mon Mothma and Bred Antham on a futile mission to Coruscant? Or assemble a fleet in the Unknown Regions to be able to interfere?"

Al'than'erudo smiled then and rose from his seat. "We will be doing both," he announced, "and a few things besides. Nuron Sarin-Skywalker, you will be leaving on your mission to Ordesha as planned. Perhaps you can put Lord Skywalker's fears concerning Roj Kell to rest. Mith'raw'noruodo and Ishare Luvo, the two of you will assemble a fleet in the Unknown Regions and work out a plan of action. I know you have already begun, and would ask you to continue. Alas, you will have to do so without Lord Skywalker and Tomas Piett." He turned to look at the latter and said, "Lord Skywalker, since you are our expert on the Cor'dan, I would ask you to work with Mon Mothma and Bred Antham on the presentation they are to give to the New Republic Senate on Coruscant. Tomas, I want you to return to Bilbringi and enlist the support of the Confederate Zone for our plans. President Zickorey will listen to you, I am sure."

"What about me? Padmé Naberrie asked then, sounding amused.

Al'than'erudo took a deep breath. "You know Yana Dar very well. Talk to her. Find out her intentions, her fears, everything you can. We need her to keep a cool head now. Will you do that?"

She gave a hesitant nod, seemingly stunned at his desperate words. "I will do my best."  
  


"That I expect of all of you," the Head of the Council added casually. "All right, then. Let's get to work."

TBC


	14. For Better or Worse

Jacen watched his sister pace the length of their cabin aboard the New Republic Star Destroyer Freedom patiently, but he felt as agitated as she did, though he did not show it so openly. They had both heard the news from Coruscant, the accusations the Empress was facing. And both could not help but link these charges with Luzaya Dan's unexpected appearance and the true identity of her 'bodyguard'. Mahel Sivaraya, as the newsgrids had been eager to repeat, was actually the late Yuuzhan Vong warmaster's son. Marayl Carr had been the master-mind behind the invasion of the Unknown Territories some twenty years past, and everyone who had struggled through these times had heard his name and had come to fear him and his minions. To have his son now named guardian of the Sith Empire's only heir by none other than Empress herself had to rouse suspicion. Had Yana known? Jacen was certain of it. 

She had been an information broker and her husband had been an Imperial Special Agent. A detail such as this one would not have escaped their notice, not when their daughter's safety was at stake. And Naas Deron … Deron had to have been aware of Mahel's true identity too. He had been the one who had named the Yuuzhan Vong when he had decided to follow the Cor'dan's teachings and forsake the heritage of his own people. And whatever Yana Dar had sought to achieve by her choice of bodyguard for her daughter had now trapped her solidly. It was clear to Jacen that it would be very hard for the New Republic to trust Yana after this. But how were the Chiss reacting? They had been hit the worst back in that war against the Yuuzhan Vong. So far there had been no official statement from Csilla, the Chiss Empire's capital world, but Jacen had thought that at least the Council of Naboo would have an unofficial reaction from the Emperor Ja'han'mandana.

This was truly complicated.

"He is not involved in this," Jaina announced suddenly, rounding on her brother, "he is _not_!"

"Who? Jacen asked, bewildered.

  
"Mahel! Who else?" she demanded in exasperation, then started pacing again. "It makes no sense, otherwise. Mahel never supported the conservative wing of Yuuzhan Vong officials. And Yana Dar would not have chosen him had she not been certain of his loyalty. What if she wanted to show her citizens that she offers reconciliation to the Yuuzhan Vong and a future for all peoples to exist within the Empire? To have Mahel guard her daughter is the utmost sign of trust there can be!"

"It could also have been bait to goad out the conspirators who tried to kill her husband," Jacen mused thoughtfully. 

Jaina replied instantly, "Even then she had to be sure Mahel was on her side and would protect Luzaya."

"True," her brother conceded. "And what should we do now?"

"Good question," Jaina huffed. "I suppose we'll have to talk to Vice-admiral Shikay. We're officially here to assist him on behalf of the Council of Naboo."

  
"But there is no terrorist threat. So what are we really doing here?" Jacen asked then, and rose from his seat to join her on the deck. Facing each other, the twins kept silent for a while, each lost in thought.

"Out of harm's way?" Jaina offered at last, but Jacen shook his head

"I don't think so. I believe there is danger out here. We only have to find out what it is. Al'than'erudo thinks this emergency call might have been designed to distract the attention of both the Council and the New Republic military. So someone on this planet is interested in diverting us. Wanna guess?"

Jaina's forehead creased in puzzlement. "Shikay?"

"No, dummy. It has to be the NRI. Kattaran. He doesn't like the Vong and he doesn't trust the Empire, the Force knows why. Probably thinks Yana Dar and Franzis Sarreti have betrayed the Empire by welcoming the Vong. He was an Imperial agent at the time of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, remember?"

"I do," she nodded. "So what do we do? Follow him around?"

Jacen shrugged. "It would be worth a try."

There was a knock at the door and the twins called in unison, "Come!"

"Speak of the Dark One," Jaina mumbled under her breath when Alowyn Kattaran himself entered the cabin, giving the siblings a polite nod.

"What can we do for you?" Jacen asked, a little too loudly, hoping that the agent had not heard Jaina's comment.

"Forgive me for this unannounced visit," Kattaran replied calmly, "but news has reached us from Coruscant. My assignment has been changed."

"Really?" Jaina inquired, cocking her head to the side curiously, "How so?"

"There's an arrest warrant out for Mahel Sivaraya," the agent explained. "The government's decided that the Vong's kidnapped the princess and that it is our duty to recover her 

unharmed."  
  


"And _you_ have been assigned to bring her back?" Jacen asked, aghast. 

"As a matter of fact, yes," Alowyn Kattaran explained with a grin. "And I recall that the two of you wanted to come along, so I offer you a chance to do something beside twiddling your thumbs."

"That offer comes at a very awkward moment, sir," Jacen replied coldly. "We have been sent here on behalf of the Council of Naboo to assist Vice-admiral Shikay uncover the source of a supposed terrorist threat. We will have to check back with our superior before we can commit to any new assignment."

"Has Coruscant gained the Empress' consent for this arrest warrant?" Jaina chimed in. "As long as Mahel is not listed as a criminal subject in Imperial databases you cannot prosecute him in New Republic territory."

"This is not official," Kattaran said then, between gritted teeth, and Jacen could sense that he was really growing angry now. "The NRI has been made aware of the danger the princess' disappearance poses to us. What if the Empress takes this as excuse to attack the New Republic in retribution? We have to find the princess, we really have no choice in the matter."

"Why not appeal to Mahel to bring her back? If he's brought her to safety to keep her from harm he might listen to you and agree to come out," Jacen suggested then.

Kattaran shook his head. "Too risky. We have to assume that he is guilty of kidnapping."

"Why?" Jaina challenged him.

But it was her brother who answered with a wry smile, "Because it is more convenient that way." He straightened to his full height facing the NRI agent, "Sir, we will think about your proposal. Allow us to report back to Naboo, though, and we promise this information will remain confidential."

Kattaran gave him a dark look that spared not even Jaina, "Let me know when you've made up your minds," he growled, the turned to leave. "But be quick about it. I cannot afford to lose more time." And with these words he was gone. 

Immediately, Jaina scooted over to her brother, her face shining with fierce determination. "I know what you are thinking," she told him, her voice low. "You think Kattaran wants to take us along to appear to have the Council's official backing and sanctioning. So whatever happens, for example if Luzaya is harmed, or worse, is killed, the blame will fall on the Council. I say we tell Al'than'erudo the entire story."

"We can't," Jacen cautioned her. "Chances that Kattaran will be listening in on us are too great. And besides, if he really intends to track down Mahel and Luzaya and kill them, we should  be there to prevent it. He's going to go anyway."

At that moment both their commlinks were activated, and both hurried to answer the call. At once they realized they'd both been called by the same person. "Mother," Jacen said, a relieved smile on his lips. "Are you back on Coruscant?" He listened patiently as his mother continued, but Jaina could not hold still. 

"We can't come to you now!" she exclaimed, her face flushed red. "No, we've not made any progress with the investigations," she conceded, at Leia's poignant query. "No! This assignment can only be revoked by the Council, so you can't just order us home! Ah, you talk to her, Jacen," she added then, deactivating her commlink and turning away.

Rolling his eyes at his sister, Jacen let his mother's arguments wash over him, but he had already decided that he agreed with Jaina. At last he said," Mother, please, let us check back with Al'than'erudo. Let him decide. He knows what's best. Yes. Yes. I'll try. Bye." With a grin, he disconnected the call and turned toward his sister. "She says I'm to persuade you to see reason."

"Meaning?"

"We're going with Kattaran. Let me talk to the Council."

Jaina was unconvinced. "And what if Al'than'erudo says no?"

Shrugging, Jacen walked over to the viewport, then announced, "We'll simply have to make certain he cannot say no. We'll leave a message once we're already under way. How about that?"

"Sneaky," Jaina grinned. "Let's do it."

"Ah, Your Highness, I am terribly sorry, but she is not available," the official told her patiently, but Padmé refused to be turned down again now that she had managed to at least reach the Citadel's comm center. 

"What about Franzis Sarreti, then?" she asked.

"He is unavailable, Your Highness. But you can leave a message, or ask to be called back. That is all I can do for you, I fear," the man said again, infuriating her even more.

"This is impossible!" she snapped, "And I demand that you at least make an effort to locate them! They cannot have vanished just like that. If they are not off-world, and I was assured they are not, then you must be able to move your sorry ass from your chair and go look for them! This is important!"

"Madam, please understand that you are trying to speak to the two busiest people this administration has to offer. _Everything_ they do is important. For the last time, leave a message or wait to be called back."

Without another word, Padmé disconnected the call, fuming. "The gall of that man!" she exclaimed. "Not important!"

"Is there a problem?" Anakin asked, coming around the corner. "Did you reach Yana?"

"No!" she sighed, throwing up her hands. "They would not even make the effort to let her know I was calling. Can you imagine that?"

His face was terribly serious. "I can. What about Deron? Can we speak to him?"

Padmé gave her husband a puzzled look. "Why would you want to talk to him? You don't think – " she gasped, putting a hand over her heart. "Oh no!" Whirling toward the comm console she tried to reach Byss again, this time activating Naas Deron's personal comm code. It took him a while, but he answered in the end.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding somewhat angry.

"Forgive me, Cor'dan," Padmé began formally, "I have been trying to contact the Empress, but was turned down. I had hoped that you could tell me what is going on –"

"She is not available?" Deron asked, interrupting her carelessly. "Damn! I told him to – " With a click the commlink was shut down.

  
"How rude," Padmé muttered, staring at her own comm. Again her dark eyes sought her husband's face. "What in Sith's hells is going on?"

"How could I trust him? How could I?" 

Yana's hands were balled into tight fists as she glared at her husband, who had been the unfortunate messenger to bring her the news of Luzaya's disappearance. Franzis appeared unruffled and cool, but she knew that he must be as worried as she was. Seemingly unmoved, he walked around her to elegantly take a seat on one of the chairs that stood spread throughout her spacious office. Long legs crossed, he sat there gazing at her and did not say a word. She took a deep breath and strode over to loom over him, fists propped on her hips. Nostrils flaring, she dared Franzis to deny her her rage, as he did so often, fearing that her temper would get the better of her some day.  And yet, when he answered at last, she felt her heart sting with his cold demeanour and his rebuke.

"Yana, I am certain that Mahel has brought her to safety. He is loyal and sincere in his devotion to Luzaya," Franzis told her, and a small smile flashed across his lips, "Much the same way I was, before you and I got to know each other better." 

His gentle teasing went right over her head. "You might find this amusing," Yana said sternly, "but this is our daughter's life we are talking about. Her future, most of all. How is she going to stand up to those boot-lickers and back-stabbing idiots that make up the Imperial Court?"

"I told you to get rid of them years ago," her husband reminded her, grey eyes calculating. 

But Yana did not rise to that challenge. She straightened her shoulders and gave a disapproving huff. "You would have had them assassinated, had I not held you back," she countered as coolly. "And now you tell me that I have to be the diplomat, accommodate their wishes and be polite. You are not very fair in that regard."

Franzis' features did not waver when he said, "I told you before that you should never wish me to be in your place. We balance each other perfectly."

"Really?" she asked, brows arched challengingly. "But you still follow my lead. And what if I were to declare civil rights to be suspended for the duration of the investigation of Luzaya's disappearance?"

"If you do that, my dear, you'll break your own neck," he told her, charming as ever.

She whirled away, unable to face him as she answered, "Nevertheless, I am in a right mood to do just that." It was true. Her heart was a tight knot of mind-numbing fear and dark fury. She was frustrated at the lack of success concerning the Yun-Harla sect's investigation into the assassination attempts aimed at her husband. The violent death of Elu Cha, the sect's former head, had only served to deepen her suspicion concerning the sect's surviving members. Alyn Cha, the High Priest's daughter, had been questioned closely by her own fellow members as well as Franzis himself, and nothing had come from those interviews. 

And now Luzaya had vanished. 

When she had sent her daughter to Naboo she had been following Naas Deron's directive blindly, and had thought it reasonable to have her only child out of harm's way, with friends she thought she could rely on. She had felt relieved to know Luzaya safe, and now everyone had betrayed her. Even Franzis expected her to function despite the paralysis the uncertainty and worry concerning her daughter had put on her. Was she not human? Was she not a living being, a mother who had lost her child and did not know what fate held in store for that child? She wanted to throttle her husband for his uncaring heart, and at the same time there was this aching hope that he was feeling the same she was, as worried, as frantic and mad with fear. But Franzis had always been so cold in political matters. And to him this current crisis presented more of a political problem than a familial disaster. 

Yana was struggling with her emotions bravely and sought to come to terms with her situation. But she was only a mother. And she was willing to do anything in her power to protect her child, no matter what her cold-hearted husband might say. Did she not have enough resources at her disposal to start a search for the princess and her bodyguard? Was she not in command of an entire army of investigators? But no, they had betrayed her. The Yun-Harla sect had done nothing, could show no results for all the weeks that had passed since her beloved husband had almost died at the hands of cowards. 

"Mahel Sivaraya has betrayed my trust," she said suddenly, her voice hard. "I wish to make a public announcement and call him back personally. And I want his accomplices caught and imprisoned."

"What accomplices?" Franzis asked, and she could hear him rise behind her. "Yana, I tell you again that there are no accomplices. He is an honest boy, and Luzaya is safe with him. You must see the greater context in this matter. They are trying to take you to the brink of endurance, and they will test your limits until you break. You cannot break now, Yana. You have to stay calm. Trust Deron, and trust me. We can handle this."

"Handle this!" she screamed, rounding on him, her blue eyes flashing. "What have you accomplished so far? What? And Deron! That scheming bastard has no right to interfere with my government!" She saw immediately that she had gone too far. He recoiled from her, his forehead creased into a disgusted frown as he stepped back, out of her reach. "I am sorry," she hastened to assure him, "I should not have yelled at you – or blamed you for the sects' failings," she added hurriedly, when he stepped around her, keeping his silence. 

  
"Have a little faith, Yana," he said at last, his voice choked, almost a whisper. "Just a little faith."

When he turned to leave, Yana was devastated. And when the door had closed behind him, she allowed herself a moment of weakness and sank down in one of the chairs, her face buried in her hands, crying. Franzis was the only, the only person she trusted unconditionally. He was right. They complemented each other perfectly. While he strove to curb the excesses of her temper, she moderated his cold, all too sensible approach to politics. Not even her daughter enjoyed the same trust her husband did. And she could feel the distance that had come between them, separating them, ever since she had sent their daughter abroad. Perhaps she was overreacting, and perhaps Franzis found himself unable to deal with his wife any longer, but did they not have to stick together, now of all times? How could he leave her now? Shaking her head, she gave a mirthless laugh at her own indecisiveness. She trusted Franzis, and yet she accused him of not doing everything in his power to reassure her? And still, how dare he stand back when she so obviously needed his support? When had been the last time they had spoken, heart to heart, as they had done almost every night during all the years of their marriage? He had withdrawn almost completely from her quarters, spending more and more time with the Advisory Council. She could understand that, even. He was busy steering the Empire through this crisis, while she was falling apart with worry. But why could he not do both? Solve this mess and reassure his wife?  

Stunned, she replayed that last thought in her mind and with cutting clarity realized what exactly she had been thinking. She was expecting Franzis to do everything, to be her shield, the same way he had always been, always firm, always strong. But he needed her help at least as much as she did. Instead of supporting him she was throwing a temper tantrum. Instead of backing his investigations, she only demanded results. And instead of showing a strong presence in the public eye, she was leaving everything to her husband, who was an administrator more than a politician, and could not spare any time for press conferences or the like. 

Wiping the tears away, she stood again, determined to find her husband and apologize to him. They needed to stand together.

It was then that Myryane Eastwinder, the royal household's major domo, knocked at the door and announced a visitor: the New Republic ambassador Niki Beryd.

Angry though she was, Yana wiped her tears away and told Myryane to ask the ambassador to wait a moment. The majordomo gave an understanding nod, while she kept her gaze politely averted from the Empress' dishevelled appearance. Yana breathed a 'thank you', then rushed out of the office and back into her dressing room. Now that she had vowed to take on the public duties she should have shouldered weeks ago, she put much effort into her outfit and appearance. Nothing dark, a light blue suit instead, her wild mane of curls tamed in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and no cosmetic enhancements at all. When she was finished, she threw a critical glance at her image and sighed. She had grown older, hadn't she? Rising from her seat in front of the mirror she shooed her handmaidens away and prepared to receive the New Republic ambassador. She opened the door to her office and walked in casually, to seat herself behind her desk. Only then did she signal Myryane to let her guest enter. 

Ambassador Beryd, a dark-haired human woman with sharp eyes, bustled past the majordomo, a smile on her face. Rising from her seat, Yana graciously extended her hand toward the other woman, but was disappointed to find that Beryd declined her first peaceful offer and instead favoured her with merely a nod. Her mood doused instantly, the Empress resumed her seat and said, "Please take a seat, Ambassador. What can I do for you?"

Niki Beryd took her time settling into her chair, but when she had finally found a position that was satisfactory to her, her sharp gaze focused on Yana in an uncomfortably direct manner, "There are many things you could help me with," she said. "A few matters that my government is unsure about and that need to be shed light on."

"Please, Ambassador," Yana replied, a cool smile on her lips, "do not try to cushion the blow or sweet-talk your accusations. What is it you really want to say?" She was immensely pleased to see the ambassador blush.

"Well," Niki Beryd began once more, "it is no secret that Your Highness had officials of her own government seized and questioned without a trial. The New Republic cannot accept such mistreatment of innocents, and it cannot condone your seeming sanctioning of genocide."

"Sanctioning of genocide!" Yana Dar exclaimed. "If you are referring to those ridiculous accusations concerning Roj Kell – "

"That is indeed what I am referring to, Your Highness," Beryd interrupted her calmly. 

Deflating a bit, Yana leaned back in her chair and recovered her composure. These would be difficult negotiations, certainly. "Ambassador, do you truly believe that I would have sanctioned the sacrifice of millions of innocent people? I did not even know of this massacre until Lord Skywalker told me about it. He can confirm my reaction to that news, by the way. I was not at all pleased."

"Yet it is common knowledge that Lord Kell was your advisor and mentor for a time. You never chose to stop him, not even when he murdered your brother, Irek Ismaren."

Yana's face turned very pale at the mention of that unfortunate boy. His death had changed her, as well as the death of Abla Othana, the man she had loved for three wonderful years, and who had been killed by none other than Irek himself. A very dark day that had been, when she had lost both her lover and her brother. Her voice was raw when she answered, and she hated herself for revealing her sorrow to this woman, but what choice did she have?

"Believe me, Ambassador, that I wanted nothing else than to have my brother's murderer executed, but I knew Lord Kell better than you obviously do."

"Oh," Beryd said dismissively, "I have heard all the extraordinary tales of his exploits, all told by Sith, I should mention, or their associates. I must say I find some of those tales hard to believe, and I sometimes even believe that you and your kind take this man as excuse for your own short-comings and failures. Lord Kell seems to be your prime scapegoat for anything that goes wrong, and it seems very convenient for you to blame each disaster on him, instead of taking responsibility yourself."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" the Empress snapped.

"If you were so sincere in condemning Roj Kell's deeds you would not work so closely with this Cor'dan of yours. Naas Deron is not one bit better than Lord Kell, when push comes to shove. And besides, you still wear the scars you received when you were implanted with Yuuzhan Vong micro organisms, and you wear them proudly. Is that the reaction of a former prisoner toward her captors? Roganda Ismaren, who shared a fate similar to yours, had her implants removed first chance she got."

"She is not Empress of the Yuuzhan Vong survivors," Yana retorted between clenched teeth. "And I made my choice for the Yuuzhan Vong's survival. So you see, I did _not_ condone a genocide, the way your warlords wanted it. Was it not the New Republic diplomats who railed against my clemency toward what you called 'brutal butchers'? How dare you accuse me of being a cold-hearted despot, when it is your government that seeks to destroy my people? Do not think I turn a blind eye on your activities," she continued, leaning toward the other woman, "I am well aware of the New Republic's misgivings. And yet," she conceded, "I put up with your coming here and flinging lies in my face. I wonder why I should bother?" 

Niki Beryd turned very pale. "Your Highness, my government is not at all pleased with the course you are taking in this affair."

"Which affair would that be? My daughter's disappearance in New Republic space? Your government did not even offer assistance to me in regards to recovering her. Did you know that? Yes, of course, they talked all about worrying over the princess' fate, and about offering condolences to me. But they never did. Never, Ambassador, have I heard a word of apology, a reassurance of your help, all I heard was that you demanded to include your own investigators on the case of the foiled assassination attempts on my husband." Yana Dar reclined in her chair, assuming a very relaxed position. "You see, Ambassador, that I have no reason at all to dance to your tune. I never will. I do not care what your government thinks of my actions. All I care about is my people's approval. And that I will gain, you can rely on that. One last thing, before you leave," she added coldly, "If I hear another of those lies from your mouth, the New Republic embassy on Byss will be closed down. Is that understood?"

Niki Beryd rose from her chair and gave a grim nod, "I understand, Your Highness. By your leave?"

"Of course." Yana waited until the door had closed behind the ambassador, then paid a call to Alyn Cha, the priestess of the Yun-Harla sect. 

"Your Majesty," the Yuuzhan Vong female said with a smile, "good news. I had prepared a report for you to be presented this afternoon. It appears that there is indeed a connection to Domain Carr concerning the assassination of my beloved father. Perhaps we should send out a fleet to Nirauan and pay a visit to Tikoon Domain Carr."

At the mention of the domain's elder, Yana felt her color rise again in anger, buts he refused to rise to the bait, "Your report can wait until this afternoon, Alyn Cha," she cut the other female short, "I want you to set your people on observing Ambassador Beryd very closely. I want to know exactly what she reports to her superior on Coruscant."

"Of course, Your Highness," the priestess replied eagerly, "but what about Domain Carr?"

For a moment the Empress' eyes narrowed in suspicion, but then she said, "Do not worry yourself with that right now. Just do as I told you. I will see you this afternoon."

When Alyn Cha inclined her head in a slight bow, Yana cut the connection, thinking. Why was Alyn Cha so eager to move against Domain Carr? Of course, one of Franzis' would-be assassins had been a member of that domain, in fact, had been one of Marayl Carr's sons. But Naas Deron had killed him before he could have done any harm. Was the Yun-Harla sect trying to blame Domain Carr? And was that blame justified? Yana found that she sorely missed High Priest Elu Cha's advice. For all his subtle hostility he had always been honest with her. The old priest's death could have been no coincidence. Perhaps he had been too close to uncovering the real truth, and had been murdered for his trouble. That possibility seemed more and more likely. And the web of conspirators surrounding the Empress appeared to have become tighter than ever. Could she trust Alyn Cha? Not at all. The only one she could trust was Franzis, and, according to her beloved husband, Naas Deron and Mahel Sivaraya.

There was a knock at the door, and Myryane stuck her worried-looking face in. "Your Highness, Jiliha n'Averone is here to see you," she explained.

Yana jerked in surprise. Of all people she would not have expected Franzis' second on the Advisory Council to pay her a visit. The woman was sharp and very pretty. Blushing ever so slightly, Yana rose from her chair and smoothed down the front of her suit self-consciously. "Let her in," she ordered. But when the woman entered, the Empress Yana Dar unconsciously felt reminded of a day long past, when she had been betrayed to her enemies, deceived by her own advisors. Back then it had been Hah Kima, who had entered her office, smiling indulgently, just as Jiliha was doing right now. And he had been the one who had delivered the Empress into the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong. Yana stood her ground, her anger flaring, but there was a tiny flicker of fear in her heart when she realized that this time she was all alone.

"What do you want?" she demanded, her mind focused tightly, ready to lash out.

Jiliha n'Averone seemed unperturbed by her hostility. "Your Highness, we need to talk," she explained.

"And what about?"

"Your successor."

He had been walking aimlessly, seeing and hearing nothing, too consumed by his wife's darkness to even care. What was going on inside her head? Why did she not trust him any longer? It hurt so much to be so misunderstood by the one person he loved above everyone else, even his own child. But the ties that bound him to Yana seemed to be even thicker than blood. They knew each other heart and soul, they were one mind, or had been, for so long. But now everything had changed. Lips compressed into a tight line the Royal Consort curled his right hand into a fist and lay it upon his chest, but that gesture did nothing to calm the storm that raged in his heart and mind. Yana had made it abundantly clear that she would not be reasonable. How often had he warned her of her temper? Too often. And even though she had apologised to him, her husband felt that something had been broken between them. The very thought made him feel afraid. 

She had given him hope when he'd had none, had given him purpose when all he could see was death and destruction. He had believed in her so very hard that she had become larger than life in his eyes. She was his sun, his everything. But now her glorious shine was fading, devoured by her own sorrow and worry over Luzaya's fate. Thinking of her reaction to their daughter's disappearance made Franzis feel angry all of a sudden. Though she had not said it outright, he knew that secretly she blamed him for the danger Luzaya now found herself in. And that was very painful indeed. He had told her, of course, that he would sacrifice their child if he deemed it necessary, but did she believe him so cold to leave his daughter behind at the mere glimpse of danger? He would never do that. Never. And yet he had been terribly sincere when he had cautioned her to never think him in her place. He could never succeed her, never. He was not fit to bear that responsibility. Not fit to make decisions so grave. He needed her to turn his policies into something more humane that what he envisioned. During his training as Imperial Agent and assassin it had been drilled into him to be cold and rational. He had taken those lessons to heart and could not forsake them. It was different when he was with his family, of course. But not so different that he could ever forget what he had been taught.

To seize any opportunity possible to destroy your opponent. 

It did not matter whether the victim was diminished physically or mentally, all that mattered was total victory. If Franzis were allowed to do as he pleased he would purge the Sith Empire's government of every corrupt, every inefficient, every dishonest individual alive. If he were to decide, he would have made Naas Deron breathe every single secret he held about the conspiracy that was worrying Yana and him so. But that was the catch, wasn't it? He was not in charge. And Yana held a mirror to his face with her outbursts, reminded him of being reasonable, of being cunning rather than cruel. But what if that was the wrong path? What if Yana was right? 

He stopped his aimless pacing when a shadow loomed large over his path. Looking up, Franzis Sarreti found himself standing in the entrance to the Temple of Rebirth. A cold smile flashed across his lips then, and he wondered whether he had been guided here by more than just his bad conscience and anger. He had wanted to speak to Deron anyway, hadn't he? Stepping into the cool interior of the sanctuary he felt strangely at ease when the darkness enfolded him whole and he strode toward the altar set into the midst of the giant chamber that had seen so little worshippers so far. None were present at this time of day. But the sanctuary's guardian was there, clad in black, as always, waiting for his visitor. Naas Deron, his dark hair and almost black eyes melting into the shadows surrounding him, making his physical form appear like a shroud containing living darkness, did not say a word as Franzis moved to join him. 

"You refused to help me once," the Royal Consort said calmly, his grey eyes looking into the Cor'dan's dark orbs unflinchingly. "Will you refuse again?"

"What help do you need?" Deron asked, his voice tightly controlled. "I told you all you need to know."  
  


"Not quite. You told me nothing I did not know and nothing I should have known. Luzaya has vanished."

"Along with her bodyguard," Naas replied dismissively, "I know that:"

Franzis bristled at that, but kept himself under control, "And why then did you not see fit to tell us? Tell us that she is safe?"

"Who said she was safe? Far from it." Shrugging, the Sith Lord turned away and made as if to retreat to his private chambers. 

But Franzis held him back physically, something he had never done before. He was not afraid of this man, his daughter' mentor and lover, he knew him too well for that, and the rules he lived by. "Tell me everything you know," he demanded coldly, "Everything. Who is behind this, how you mean to defeat them and how I can help you do just that."  
  


"Where is your wife? Did you leave her behind?" Deron's voice was all too calm, his expression all too indifferent. 

"Leaver her behind?" Franzis shook his head, bewildered. "She is back at the palace, where else?" He hesitated briefly, realising the true meaning of the Cor'dan's question. He shook his head again, more vehemently than before, "I did not leave her behind. I never did."

"You should stand by her side," Naas Deron said softly, "Did I not tell you just that? And yet you have buried yourself in work, have deserted her time and again, too much a coward to confront her. How do you justify that? By swearing you love her too much to hurt her? That is not the way," he whispered. "Not the way." His eyes took on a faraway look, as he gazed over Franzis' head across the sanctuary's main hall. "They're coming," he added then, so softly Franzis was barely able to hear him. 

Surprised, the Royal Consort whirled around, facing the entrance to the temple, and only now became aware of the sound of hovercraft assembling in front of the structure, of snapped orders and weapons being checked. Turning to the Cor'dan again he asked, almost pleading, "What is going on? You have to help me! For Force's sake, man, you have to!"

But Deron's answer was as hard as it was brief, "Not yet," he growled, his almost black eyes burning with sudden anger. "Now get out of my way. No one violates this sanctuary. No one."

Raising his right hand imploringly toward the entrance, the Cor'dan, spoke a single word, and suddenly the chamber was flooded in writhing shadows that crawled across the walls and floor and ceiling like living things. 

Spooked by the sight, Franzis cowered back, his eyes widening. There was the crackle of lightning in the air as the room charged with incredible pressure. Sarreti's ears began to hurt uncomfortably, and he sank to his knees, closing his eyes tightly. "Stop it!" he yelled. "Stop this at once!"

But when he looked up again, still on his knees, twisting his shoulders so he could face the Cor'dan, his breath faltered. Body sheathed in a golden glow, Naas Deron was standing with arms spread at his sides, as if in welcome. His features were eerily calm, his black eyes unfocused. But Franzis could sense that this was merely the calm before the storm. 

"It is too late," he heard the Cor'dan whisper. "Go. The future rests on your shoulders now."

Staggering to his feet, his face a snarl, the Royal Consort shook his head. "I will not leave her. Ever," he snapped, and threw a quick glance back toward the entrance. "If you won't help me," he continued, facing Deron once more, "I will do this on my own."

"Then you die," was all the Sith Priest answered. "Your decision. But leave you will. Now."

Compelled by something other than his own will, Franzis Sarreti found himself running toward the back of the temple and into the Cor'dan's private chambers, howling with impotent rage. Yana! Yana was in danger. He was running of his own volition by the time he was closing in on the royal palace. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he had to admit to himself that Naas Deron had been right. He had deserted his wife when she had most had need of him. Whatever happened now was his responsibility, the fruits of his failure. 

But when he reached his wife's office he found her gone, and instead Jiliha n'Averone was seated behind the desk, looking very smug. Instantly, Franzis' raw and aching heart was receding behind the shelter of icy cold anger. For a moment they were frozen like this, Jiliha with her mouth open in surprise, Franzis with his lips pressed so tightly together that his mouth became a bloodless line of suppressed fury. But then he stepped forward, four precise, very neat steps that brought him up to the desk swiftly, and with a movement so smooth it looked almost elegant, he grabbed the table's edge and flung it at the usurper of his wife's place, a move that shattered the chair she had been perched on and her arm, if he interpreted the crack of bone and her piercing scream correctly. 

He wore no weapon, by rule, for no weapon was allowed into the Empress' presence, with the sole exception of the hand-picked royal guardsmen. But he could improvise. A splinter of the broken chair made for a perfect dagger that was held awfully close to Jiliha's left eye. She seemed fascinated by the sharp tip of wood, and for a long time she could say not one single word. So it was Franzis who spoke first. 

"You were behind this conspiracy," he declared, his voice surprisingly steady. "Only you had all the information."

"You had best drop your weapon, Your Highness," she replied, oh so very cool. 

They stared at one another even longer. But Franzis knew that she had him bang to rights. He was a survivor, not a warrior. He would relent, he would bide his time, wracking his mind for a way to turn this situation to his advantage. And he would never ever risk Yana's life. "Where is she?" he demanded at last, still unwilling to let go of his makeshift dagger. 

"Section six of the Imperial Constitution lays out the procedures of dealing with a monarch accused of treason," Jiliha answered, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "I do remember how you raged against that wording, Franzis, I remember it very well. But your wife approved, did she not? She said she did not want the people to think she was trying to protect her position at all costs. She said she did not want to be seen as the selfish tyrant her father was. Foolish, don't you think?"

"You won't get away with this," Franzis said at last, his anger seeping away quickly now. "You cannot win."

"Drop your weapon," a male voice said from behind him. "Please, Your Highness."

Jiliha answered Franzis' unspoken question freely, "You see, Franzis, _you_ are not accused of treason, only your wife is. That is the beauty of being second in power, isn't it?"

"Whatever her fate will be," he replied, so low only she could hear him, "I will share it."

The Temple of Rebirth was a total loss. What was not destroyed by the heavy weapons of the special military units storming the complex fell prey to the Cor'dan's cold precision and buried most of the soldiers underneath massive stone. He could feel it when the falling masonry crushed the circuitry that connected the temple on Byss to its numerous counterparts all over the Sith Empire. The live-feed would have shown clearly what had happened here, and the seed of revolution would have been sown among the Cor'dan's believers. Not many here on Byss, but millions more out in the Unknown Territories, where the former slaves and Shamed Ones had made their homes, far from the Yuuzhan Vong elite castes that had held the power of life and death over them for too long. Would Jiliha n'Averone even care? Deron doubted it. She would feel secure on Byss, with her human minions and greedy Yuuzhan Vong collaborators. But Naas Deron had played his card already in the very beginning of this game. 

Wiping dust off his black cloak, he smiled, then took the garment off and dropped it carelessly to the floor. A symbol only, worthless in itself. It was easy letting go of it, as easy as saying goodbye to his home and the temple itself. He had no possessions on him, only the clothes he wore, but that was not bothering him. He was Cor'dan. He was beyond mortal needs. For now his path was predestined, and all he could do was follow it to the end. So he walked away undisturbed, vanishing into the streets of Byss like a shadow himself. There were allies to be found even here, and the time to find them was now. No point in wasting his breath. He remembered Mahel telling him of his landlord, a human by the name of Cordell Tryway, and a royalist and admirer of Yana Dar to boot. He would do for starters. And then … Naas Deron smiled in utter delight. And then he would do what he was best at: fight.

TBC


	15. A Ghost from the Past

Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master and currently trying to edge his ship through the dense traffic around Nirauan, felt like cursing. He should have known that Domain Carr would not stay idle. Space around the former Chiss outpost was fairly teeming with ships. Not worldships, but the new types, sleek vessels that could move at deadly speed and that the New Republic navy feared with reason. But he had believed that the best way to begin his investigation would be the stronghold of Yana's staunchest enemies. Domain Carr had always refused to bend to the Empress' rule and had rather chosen exile in this remote sector of the Empire than make the humiliating journey to Byss and ask to be included on the Advisory Council. 

Luke knew, of course, that he would be seen as enemy too, once he revealed his identity. It had been his father, after all, who had killed the Domain's proudest member, the late Warmaster Marayl Carr. So far the Jedi Master had not given much thought on how he was going to approach the domain's elder. But perhaps he would not even have to bother with that. From Domain Carr's hostile stance toward the Empress he had concluded that they would not look kindly upon any alien race to settle on Nirauan. Therefore the unannounced arrival of a human would certainly draw attention, perhaps even the elder's attention. Luke would only have to survive long enough to get to speak to him or her. 

But as he edged the Morning Glory closer toward the major port, he saw that there were other non-Yuuzhan Vong ships in approach toward the planet. Most of them he recognised as belonging to the Corporate Sector, a territory he knew very well too. He was both pleased and concerned by this find. On one hand it meant he would blend in much better than anticipated and would have the opportunity to gauge the mood incognito before he approached the domain but on the other hand this posed a very obvious question: what dealings did the Corporate Sector have with Domain Carr? He was still mulling over that when he gained permission to land for a moderate fee, which surprised him no less than the presence of Corporate Sector ships. 

After having settled the formalities with the dockmaster, Luke decided to have a look around the port and felt reminded of many a previous adventure. By custom, he sought out a bar first, and found one not far from where his ship was berthed. It was a shed, really, but well frequented. Easing his way into the crowd, the Jedi Master kept his senses alert. Since it was impossible to gain a place in one of the booths, he settled for positioning himself halfway between the bar and the kitchen. Usually, there would be a second exit into the backyard through the kitchen, and he wanted to be prepared, just in case. He had just ordered a drink when a tall alien brushed past him carelessly, almost pushing him over. The alien, a Falleen, turned his head to look at whoever had dared bar his path that way, and gasped in surprise once he became aware of Luke. But then the alien shook his head, as if dismissing a thought from his mind, and went about his business. Luke followed him instantly. . 

"Excuse me. Sir," he began, his voice low but powerful. 

The Falleen turned, mustered him coolly, then crossed his arms over his chest, "Do you want an apology, or what, human? Well, you won't get it. And now be off. I have no wish to converse with you."

"No?" Luke smiled and edged a little closer. "I believe you thought you knew me. I was wondering who it was I reminded you of."

"And why should I tell you?" the Falleen snarled, "You are either an arrogant prat or a yearling. You're too old for the latter, so I assume you're simply too stupid to know what is good for you."

"You might be mistaken;" Luke answered softly and drew back his cloak for a brief moment to reveal the handle of his lightsaber that hung from his belt. "My name is Luke Skywalker. I am certain you have heard of me," he concluded calmly. 

"Jedi," the Falleen breathed, his eyes wide. Suddenly he grabbed Luke's arm and dragged him away, into the back of the bar. "It's okay," he told the tall human lurking at the staircase, then hurried up to the first floor. "Come," he urged the Jedi Master. "Perhaps you know the man I thought was you."

Bewildered and somewhat excited, Luke followed the alien down the hallway. "This' my little home," the Falleen explained as he opened a door with a lockcard. "Not much, I know, but I can't afford much."

"Why here?" Luke asked pointedly, surveying the poor chamber. A bed stood against one wall, a kitchen unto against the other. The rest of the floor was bare and a few coveralls hung from a peg on the third wall. 

The Falleen shrugged. "Take a seat," he said then, pointing toward the bed. Luke declined with a shake of his head. "Please yourself. You're a Jedi Master, right? I knew a Jedi Master once, back in the Corporate Sector. You reminded me of him, a bit. Though he was quite a bit taller than you are, and he had this scar, of course. But for a moment I thought … " he trailed off, shook his head. "My name is Bray La," he introduced himself at last.

But Luke did not really hear him. The description of the Jedi Master had triggered a memory, of a wondrous tale shared with his father many years back. "This Jedi Master, was his name Alamys, by chance?" he asked softly, feeling his knees tremble. "You knew him?"

"Vanished without a trace, after he'd promised me to keep an eye on the slip of a girl who's now Empress. I never knew what happened to him," Bray La explained. "Do you?"

"He died," the Jedi answered with a nod. "The late Emperor murdered him." Eyes hardening, he added, "He was my grandfather."

Bray La gave a heart-felt groan, then threw Luke a smile. "You certainly look a bit like him. And you seem to have picked up on his habits. You're an investigator, are you not? That was what he did too. Investigate." His expression grew serious all of a sudden. "He was mad, I think. Not an easy man to deal with. But he was my friend. If you need any help out here, I'll do what I can."

"Actually," Luke confessed, moved by the Falleen's generosity, "that was what I hoped you'd say. I'd appreciate it. I need to know everything I can about Domain Carr. And about my grandfather."

Bray La gazed at him for a while, then nodded. "You sure you don't want to sit down? No?" He took the privileged seat on the bed himself, when Luke again declined. "I've been here for a while, you see, a few years. Before Alamys vanished from Weyla he warned me that I might be in danger if he did not return. That I needed to leave the planet and go to ground somewhere. And when he did not return, but the girl did, telling me that she thought he'd been captured and that I was to protect her, I knew that his worst fears had come to pass. I hoped not, of course, but I did take him seriously. Always."

  
"Why Nirauan?" Luke asked, truly curious. "This does not seem to be a very  - friendly - world."

"Because of the Vong?" Bray La smiled. "They've changed the place, but I daresay it is efficient enough, as a port. But what do I know? I've been a customs officer on Weyla, you know?"

"That is very interesting," Luke suggested, "but what do you know about Domain Carr? Who is the elder?"

"Ah, of course. His name is Tikoon. Marayl Carr's brother or something. I remember when Marayl's son defied his domain and became follower of that sorcerer on Byss. The entire port was lying low until he'd cooled off." The Fallen guffawed with laughter. "The poor boy."

"Marayl Carr's son?"

"You've not heard?" Bray La asked. "It was all over the holonet."

"I did not keep in touch," the Jedi Master confessed, "I wanted to think about my mission - investigation," he corrected himself. "so what is this news?"

Leaning toward him conspiratorially, Bray La told him, "The princess' bodyguard, Mahel Siivaraya, is a Yuuzhan Vong. He vanished along with her on Bakura."

"So?"  
  


"Sivaraya is not the name he was born to. His name, before he went to Byss, was Lomin Domain Carr."

"Marayl Carr's son."

"Exactly."  
  


Luke exhaled slowly. "And did the Empress know, do you think?"

"Her consort certainly did. He's very thorough where it concerns his family's safety," Bray La said approvingly. "He'd never let his family down. Contrary to Tikoon. Mahel Sivaraya's an outcast now. None of his kin will talk to or about him, except for this sister of his."

"Sister?" Luke mused aloud, wondering. If Franzis Sarreti had known about Mahel Sivaraya's past, why then had he allowed the Yuuzhan Vong to become Luzaya's bodyguard? Was he trying to finally neutralise the threat of Domain Carr lurking at the edges of the Empire by compromising them in kidnapping his daughter? It would be a master-stroke, and worthy of the ex-Imperial Assassin's wit. The only problem, of course, was that no Yuuzhan Vong, once he had been cast out by his domain, could compromise his domain, no matter what crime he or she committed. Then why assign Mahel Sivaraya as Luzaya's guardian? This had to be about more than just petty revenge. In fact, this hinted at a plan with more far-reaching consequences. A ploy designed by the 'sorcerer' on Byss, Naas Deron? But the Cor'dan's aim in this gamble was elusive, even to a Jedi Master. He frowned at the Falleen, then asked, "Where can we meet this sister?"

"Her name is Warrahm," Bray La, replied with a shrug, "She's a general in the Imperial Border Fleet."

"Which border?" Luke asked, his brows arched in surprise. Apparently Mahel Sivaraya was not the only of Marayl Carr's offspring who had chosen against the family. But contrary to her brother her martial career was obviously more acceptable.

"The Chiss Empire," Bray La said. 

This time Luke smiled. "And how come you know so much about this domain?"

The Falleen shrugged once more, "Well, I got to keep a hobby out here. Else it can get a little boring."  
  


"Boring? I think life won't get boring for quite a while. For both of us. If you want to accompany me?"

"Depends. Where to?"

"Csilla."

He was surprised to find himself alone in his prison, a simple room with no windows and a single bed bolted to the floor. As dreary as any he had ever seen, as captive or captor. Restlessly pacing the small expanse of the room, to the bed and back to the three stairs that led down into the room from the door, Franzis Sarreti felt anxious for his wife. Where was she? Jiliha had not spoken to him once he had been put under arrest, and his questions concerning the empress had fallen on deaf ears. But he had hoped that they would be put in this cell together, a foolish thought, he admitted in hindsight. Jiliha was not so foolish as to allow the couple to reassure one another and make plans to escape together. All the more bewildered was the Royal Consort when the door opened after a few hours and two soldiers helped his wife into the small room. 

Franzis' heart skipped a beat with the joy of seeing her. A nasty gash was cut across her forehead, and he winced at the sight. Obviously Jiliha had thought of ridding the Empress of the neural implants that would allow her to communicate with the great yammosk on Kynda'bey, the distant ocean world. With the yammosk's help Yana would have been able to exert control over every other Yuuzhan Vong implanted with the controllers, which were most of the soldiers and high ranking priests. It had been one of the anchors Franzis had set his hopes in, but seeing Yana like this ruled out that possibility. Easing toward her concernedly, he reached out to embrace her, and the soldiers released their quarry to let her weight rest on him alone instantly. Staggering back with a grunt when her knees gave way and she fell into his arms heavily, Franzis sank to his knees in confusion, Yana still wrapped in his embrace. 

"Yana?" Gently wiping the sweat-soaked threads of blonde curls from her face he raised her chin to look into her eyes. She did not react. There was no flicker of emotion on her features, no recognition in her eyes. They had not been blinded, he could tell, but somehow she did not seem to register him at all. Suddenly fearful, Franzis began talking to her rapidly. "What happened? Yana, can you hear me?" 

No reaction at all. 

For a moment he sat like that, his wife cradled in his arms, and his mind was totally blank. Only gradually did his brain resume working and soon supplied an explanation for the state Yana found herself in. Her brain had been damaged by the operation, it had to be that. And if he knew Jiliha at all, she would have ordered that done deliberately. The revelation caused his heart to shrink a little more, and he drew in a sharp breath, wanting to cry out in despair, but unable to. Not with Yana in his arms. Not when she needed him to be strong. Not when he was her only hope of salvation. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he hugged his wife closer, and kissed her mutilated forehead. 

"It'll be all right," he assured her in a whisper, "You'll see." 

She did not respond, staring into the distance indifferently as he slipped her left arm around his shoulder and hoisted her upright. Walking carefully, he dragged her limp body over to the single bed and put her down very tenderly. 

"You're in shock, Yana," he explained, speaking more to himself than to the woman who lay unmoving on the thin mattress and continued gazing at the ceiling. "You'll recover. I'll be there for you, my love. Always." He sat down on his haunches beside the bed, his elbows resting on the bed-frame, his chin settled on his hands. "Shall I tell you a story?"

So he began his tale, talking until his voice was raw. And when the light in the cell went out, he wrapped Yana in the single blanket to make sure she was not cold. He did not sleep that night. But Yana never woke from her stupor.

By the next morning his hope had dwindled a little further away. Where was Naas Deron? What was the Cor'dan doing? What was the Advisory Council doing? Did it still exist? And if so, in what constellation? Who was supporting Jiliha, and who was secretly, or openly, opposing her? All these questions he needed to be answered, and still, he had no illusions concerning their usefulness. As long as he was not allowed to participate, he could do nothing. Shoulders slumping, Franzis sat on the edge of the bed, feeling helpless. It was not a feeling he liked. Not at all. With a sigh, he turned his head to gaze down at Yana. His wife lay unmoving on the mattress, her eyes open. She was breathing evenly, and that reassured her husband somewhat. Yet the apparent normalcy was so deceptive. He was not used to not having her attention when they were together, not used to that special bond between them, that he always felt when she was close, missing from her presence. 

"Do you think Luzaya is all right? That Mahel is protecting her well? I believe so," he told her then. 

His throat constricted as he suppressed a sob. But he did not want to give Jiliha any more of his despair. He knew what she was trying to do by showing him exactly what she had made of his wife. She knew him too well, far too well. But he loved Yana. And that love was stronger than any lesson he had ever learned, stronger than reason. 

Stronger than hate.

Alowyn Kattaran certainly was not like any NRI agent they had ever encountered, that was something Jaina found out very quickly. He was moody and moved as if he were uncomfortable with his surroundings. Even aboard his own ship. It made her wonder what had happened to him to make him hate the Yuuzhan Vong and the Sith Empress and her consort that much. The young woman had met both Luzaya's mother and father. In fact, she remembered blissful days she had spent on Byss with the princess, playing the days away. No matter what, Franzis Sarreti would come around every few hours to check on the children himself, never trusting the nannies and guards assigned to care for them. To Jaina he had always seemed gentle, a caring father, much like her own, with the distinction that Franzis Sarreti never stooped to playing alongside the children, as Han Solo had done. He would sit down somewhere quiet and read some report or other, content with his daughter being within arm's reach. Yana Dar had never participated much in family life, as far as Jaina could tell. She had seen her once or twice as a child, and she had appeared polite but distant. Nothing about either one had struck her as being particularly loathsome. 

And Luzaya adored her parents. 

Seated on her bunk aboard Kattaran's ship, knees hugged to her chest and her chin resting atop them, Jaina was thinking about her own parents. She'd had a happy childhood, she thought, with her twin brother as companion, sheltered and loved by their parents. They had always been there, even when Mother had been off world on a mission, the children could always contact her, if needed. Sheltered lives. And now? Now they were truly on their own, travelling with a man they did not trust, and she had the distinct feeling that neither she nor her brother had any idea what it truly meant to bear all responsibility themselves. A hard lesson then. Her grand-father would have approved, she mused, wondering what Anakin was doing right now. With a sigh she unfolded her legs and stood, determined to find Jacen and talk to him. About what, she wasn't yet sure. But being in Jacen's presence was better than spending even more time mulling over the future on her own. 

It came to her then, very suddenly, that Luzaya was not the only one who loved her parents unconditionally. And yet, just as the Solo twins had done by deciding to follow Alowyn Kattaran, she, too, had realized that it was time to go on without her beloved mother and father. The thought was elating, somehow, but there was a bitter-sweet touch to it also. Shaking her head ever so slightly, Jaina smiled wistfully, then went in search of her brother. It was then that she caught first sight of a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She turned around swiftly, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. Carefully, a cold shower raining down her back, she turned back again, toward the forward hold of the ship, where she could sense Jacen to be, meditating, she thought. And there the shadow was again. This time she forced herself to remain calm and tried to make out anything that would tell her what that shadow meant. Reaching out to the Force she committed to its flow and tried to touch the wraith, but there was nothing to hold on to. Edgy now, the young woman turned her head ever so slightly, making it seem a casual move, and then, for a tiny moment, she saw. Her breath caught in her throat as she was reminded of a story Luzaya had told her proudly, oh so many years ago. Of a little boy, clad in soft leather pants, his young body already showing the signs of a hard life, yet his eyes, pale green, sparkled with mischief and wonder. Black braids framed his thin face, and there was a solemn air about him that Jaina had come to know too, had seen before on her grand-father's face.

She knew that boy.

Unable to control her fear and surprise, Jaina responded instinctively, and rounded on the spirit, meaning to confront it. Running never was an option, that she knew. Not with this creature. The boy stared at her, his fragile features at odds with his history. Jaina remembered his name then. "Liyuma," she called softly, using the name as a spell to bind him. The look of fear in his eyes told her that her ruse had succeeded and she felt incredibly proud of herself. Who could ever have claimed to be able to bind Roj Kell's spirit before her? Walking closer to the wraith, very carefully, expecting him to attack her at any time, she studied him more closely. He seemed to be shaking, and his pale skin looked clammy and cold. "What do you want?" she asked at last, reasonably secure in her power. Roj Kell was dead, had been for a long time. She was not afraid of him, not in the guise he appeared in before her now. The boy was silent, and the fear in his eyes increased as she stepped even closer, to loom over his slender frame as only an adult could. It felt so good! To have that power over this being, to be able to control him. And then the sweet moment faded, as she became fully aware of just what she was thinking. Her features falling, Jaina dropped down on her haunches before the boy, so her eyes were level with his. "I am sorry," she breathed, and truly felt it. Why had she ever thought of intimidating him so? He was just a child! A tear slid down his cheek, and unconsciously his hand came up to wipe it away. A small hand, she noted, very small. He could be no more than eight years of age. And then, despite everything she knew about him, everything she had been taught, Jaina reached out to run her fingers soothingly along his jaw, for comfort. And froze.

_She stands at the mouth of a cave, the dawn at her back, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hands grip her own elbows so hard that her arms are trembling. But she cannot interfere, she has to have that hold, or she will go mad with the sight spread before her. She can hear their cries, can see their bodies, so full of life, bleed toward death, can feel them being slaughtered, can sense their terror like a most exquisite cocktail of fear and pain. She can barely stand the feel of it. A massacre, she thinks, and knows, just then, what has caused it. Whose body she occupies. When this massacre is taking place. Jaina Solo knows her history, and that of Roj Kell. This is N'zoth, and what she is witnessing is the genocide he has caused, the death of the Yevetha. But why is he standing so still, why is he not doing something? She wonders. Participating in the slaughter, is what she means. Her eyes have grown accustomed to the gloom now, and she can see who is conducting the massacre of innocents. They are Yevetha. Male, she believes, and they seem in a killing frenzy, their great talons ripping at flesh with uninhibited pleasure. Jaina feels sick to her stomach, and suddenly wonders whether she is feeling what he does._

_Forced to look on as he does, she feels her heart grow cold. And then she can feel it. Like tendrils of warmth that search the cave for every scrap of fear, every boust of terror and pain and lap it up hungrily. He feeds on it, she thinks, horrified. But then she sees that her vision is flawed. He is Cor'dan. The Heart of Darkness. Her grand-father explained the meaning of that word to her once, and she remembers now as she watches through his eyes, reaches out to the dying with his senses, and takes their horror into herself, to return the warmth of his love, to lend comfort even as they die. Hating as he does so, hating with all his being, the force that renders him helpless to do more. Jaina shrinks back in the face of his fury, unable to comprehend, not wanting to comprehend, what his hatred means. That he is a rebel, a traitor to his own heritage. That he is out of control, despite all safe-guards that were imposed on his spirit when he first chose to sacrifice his life for a higher calling. He has chosen now. And there is not stopping him from what he is doing, for he is Cor'dan. And sometimes a bond can run both ways. Reeling back from the force of the revelation, Jaina awakens._

The boy, his pale eyes infinitely sad, leans forward to embrace her swiftly, then disappears. "I am sorry," she whispers, once more, and tears fall from her eyes. "I am sorry for your loss." Swallowing fiercely she lets her eyes mirror her anger. "But what the hell does it mean?"

Far away, on the planet called Byss, Naas Deron felt a subtle change in his own heart, a signal of sorts that alerted him to the workings of an alien presence in his realm of power. A disturbing discovery, especially now that he was trying to think up a plan of attack and defense that would suit his situation and purposes. Jiliha n'Averone would make her claim to the Empire's throne soon, but she would first need to sow the seeds of trust she needed to have the New Republic show toward her. Her allies within that realm would be busy aiding her cause, he was certain of that. But there was still Luzaya to consider. Contrary to her parents he knew where his young charge was. Yet the presence of a pair of Chiss agents with her had now brought another player into the game. The Chiss Emperor was a cunning creature and his motives selfish where they concerned his people. How would he react to the news of Yana's apparent betrayal of her people? Would he accept Jiliha in her place? Deron doubted it. Then what choice did the Chiss have? Fight the Sith Empire and thus pitch the New Republic against itself? Not a happy thought.

"Cor'dan." It was Cordell Tryway who approached him cautiously, not wanting to disrupt the priest's musings.

"Any news?" Deron asked likewise, not even looking at the man.

Tryway fidgeted for a moment, then sighed. "I tried to ask around, as you suggested, Excellency," he offered. "And I found a few who thought n'Averone was wrong to push this issue of treason. They – say that the Vong deserve it anyway." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Not what you wanted, is it?"

"Not quite," the Cor'dan amended. 

He needed allies, yes, but not allies who were only willing to assist him in order to punish the Yuuzhan Vong. But how to get them on his side? How to inspire them? His thoughts began to drift then, as an idea unfolded. What was it they feared most? A Yuuzhan Vong uprising. If he gave it to them it would drive them toward Jiliha's camp, which would be exactly the opposite of what he needed. And Jiliha would not be so stupid as to move against the human citizens of the Empire, lest she lose their loyalty. In fact, it came to him that there had been only one person in the past who had understood how to balance the needs of the Empire's people, and that was Yana Dar. But the empress was incapacitated, and her husband alongside her. The fool. Naas Deron shook his head grimly at the man's stubbornness. Unfortunately the Cor'dan could not see a clear path yet. Too muddled was his vision, too uncertain the allegiance of those he depended on. And now this unknown presence that threatened to interfere, that _did_ interfere, sensed like a faint stirring in the distance. He could not pinpoint its location, nor could he even guess at its identity. 

It was truly disturbing him.

With a suppressed sigh he straightened in his seat and gazed out into infinity, thinking. Perhaps a catalyst was needed to remind the people of the Sith Empire of the value of unity. But what catalyst could that be, what could he use without jeopardizing his goal? What common ground was there between Yuuzhan Vong and what other species the Empire housed? There was only one answer, he knew. He had nurtured it over the years, along with the Empress herself, a wild spirit that swirled like a torch through the bitter ranks of long-grown hatred. Where she went the darkness lit up with fondness and joy, and she did it unconsciously, just by being herself. Luzaya. And if Jiliha ever dared threaten her, she would be done for. Deron did not doubt a minute that killing Luzaya Dan was exactly what the new Empress strove for; that she would never voice that particular aspect of her strategy aloud went without saying. She would pretend to worry for the princess, call on her to return, call on Mahel Sivaraya to release the girl … And thereby increase the hatred for the Yuuzhan Vong. How could her true intentions be exposed? 

A low growl emanated from his throat. He could not afford to wait too long on his enemies. They were even now searching for him and would not be content before he was defeated. Time to choose sides. Time to see whether the seeds he had planted had grown to fruition. Time to make it known that the Cor'dan did not, and would never, be a weapon of human making. He could feel the flow of power within him, the approval of his plan. Rising at last from his seat he turned to stare at Cordell Tryway, watching the pudgy man wring his hands anxiously.

"My lord?" the landlord quavered, terrified. "What is it?"

_Show me my allies_, the Cor'dan commanded, and the force within complied. Familiar faces, and unfamiliar ones, appeared before him, centered around a blurred visage, undoubtedly the one who was interfering so subtly. Angrily, Deron tried to discern the creature's identity, but it refused to yield to him. He gave up at last, exasperated, then briskly walked past Tryway. "Show me to those people you talked to," he commanded. "I will speak to them."  
  


"Cor'dan!" Tryway exclaimed, then continued more softly, once the priest's attention was on him once more, "They do not approve of you. Your congregation is small, and they fear Jiliha's wrath," he explained. "Will they listen?

Naas Deron shrugged, a sardonic smile on his lips. "I am Cor'dan, Master Tryway. I am a priest. They will listen. They will believe. Trust me."

It was hard to describe his feelings as he strode alongside Cordell Tryway down the walkways spanning the city that night, careful not to draw attention, careful not to be seen. Anticipation, perhaps, or triumph. He was not sure. He had thought long and hard about what to say to the people who had assembled on Cordell's pleading to hear the Cor'dan speak. He hoped it would be enough. No. he knew it had to be enough. Flexing his fingers, itching for the chance of fighting this war on a much simpler level, Naas Deron fought down his anxiety, trusting in the power that guided his mind toward the inevitable. This speech tonight, then Jiliha's counter-strike. And then, at last, sweet, blessed sacrifice. With a shudder the Cor'dan revelled in the vision of that future, and smiled. No matter who it was who was messing with the Force, the Cor'dan would come out on top of this game. It had always been that way, and that pattern would not ever change. That reassuring thought boosted his confidence immensely, as he followed Cordell into the mouldy depth of an ancient warehouse, abandoned now. There were people assembled here, his own congregation, or what remained of them. He knew that Jiliha was doing what she could to imprison the Cor'dan's believers, using flimsy excuses to have them arrested. He could not stop her from doing just that. Yet. It hurt his own status, he knew, but that would change soon enough. And he would begin tonight.

Gracefully moving across the floor he felt all eyes on his black-clad bulky frame, and he could easily visualise what they saw in him. A priest, mysterious and powerful, awe-inspiring and dreadful. He drew shadows where he went, let them swirl around his boots like excited puppies. At last he stopped and faced the assembly. Most of them were human, but there were a few aliens too, but no Yuuzhan Vong. He noted their absence grimly, but knew there was nothing to be done about that yet. Mustering his small army, knowing that there would soon be more, he began to speak, and his voice was compelling, its enforced light drawing their minds like a flame would draw moths to their doom. "Treason," he said, the single word cutting through their minds mercilessly. "Betrayal," he continued, leaving a tiny pause to emphasise that meaning. "Have we been betrayed?" he asked, only to answer himself, "Yes, we have been betrayed and deceived. And because of that betrayal we have now lost our fiercest defender to the enemy. I ask you, can we tolerate that? Will we cower in Jiliha n'Averone's shadow, afraid to stand up and claim our rights? I think not." He smiled coldly, looking at their frozen faces. "I know what you are thinking," he purred, his voice low. "You believe Jiliha will never hurt you, that she will concentrate on the Yuuzhan Vong only, and you believe that, just perhaps, they have deserved to be treated as traitors, as enemies. But if you think she will spare your freedom you are mistaken." His sharp gaze turned on a tall human standing in the second row of the congregation, and his black eyes betrayed his cold anger as he said, "And never believe that sacrificing me would benefit you either. I am the only one who can defend you now. The only one left." His words, infused with his innate power, reached deep into their hearts and rooted there. He watched it all, satisfied. "We have been betrayed," he repeated then, softly now. "And we must not let that betrayal continue."

Jacen stared at his sister slack-jawed as she related the tale of her encounter with Liyuma in whispered words, her face flushed with excitement. "What doe sit mean?" he asked, dumb-founded, once she was finished, and she replied with a low groan.

  
"How should I know?" she hissed fiercely. "Does it mean that he wasn't responsible for their deaths? Does it mean he triggered something dormant in their souls and let it blossom? I have no idea!"

"It can't have been a vision of the future, can it?" Jacen asked, suddenly terrified,

  
Jaina glared at him, then replied, "He's dead, brother."

"But alive enough to come bother you!" he retorted. "I don't like this , sis', I really don't. He's playing one of his games again, believe me."

She bit her lower lip anxiously, her brown eyes searching his warily. "And what if?" she asked softly. "What can we do?" A look of fear crossed her eyes before she continued, "He seemed so sad, Jacen. It hurt him to watch, I know that."

Jacen studied her for long moments, bereft of words. He had hoped, hell, they all had, that they would never again be bothered with old Kell and his games. Finally he said," Let's go see what Kattaran is planning for us."

Startled, Jaina followed him to the cockpit, where the agent was obviously preparing the ship's re-entry into real-space. "We've arrived?" Jacen asked as he let himself drop into one of the passenger seats.

"Almost there," Kattaran murmured. "Get strapped in, kid," he told Jaina then, a little gruffly. 

She complied, sparing a questioning glance at her brother. But Jacen kept his silence and instead continued watching Kattaran. What was it that bothered him about the man? He seemed totally normal at first glance, but there was such hatred glimmering beneath that

surface that it was hard to read what was really eating him. Determined to find out some way, Jacen told himself to be patient, as the ship lurched out of hyperspace and hurtled toward a small planet that reached up instantly to envelop them in a storm of darkness. Gasping aloud, and hearing Jaina do the same, Jacen squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the assault of darkness most acutely. 

"Where are we going?" he pressed out at last, addressing the pilot directly. 

Turning around, a strange smile on his face, Alowyn Kattaran replied, "Home, darksider. Aren't you pleased?"

Immediately, Jacen felt dread reach for his heart, and he let his hand drop down to unfasten the crash-webbing that held him in place, but Kattaran let the ship bank sharply to the left and then went through a series of manoeuvres that let the g-forces tear at the siblings viciously. Jacen was close to blackening out when the vessel almost crashed into the planet's surface. Trembling, he watched the NRI agent leave his seat and casually walk out of the cockpit. There was a thud as if from a body hitting the deck, and then Jaina was beside him, her brown eyes blazing.

"Come on, Jacen," she breathed, "we got to follow him!"

"Where are we?" he asked back, stunned and frightened.

Her lips twisted in a grimace and she closed her eyes briefly before she answered, "Korriban."

Jacen's comment was heart-felt, "Shit." Suddenly another thought came to him, "Do you think Liyuma might be here also?" he asked, voice trembling.

"I don't think so," his sister replied solemnly, "Kell never liked being imprisoned. He wouldn't return here."

"Then we're on our own."

Jaina nodded at the ship's controls. "We have this," she offered.

"And what about Luzaya and Mahel? What if they are here?"

"Why should they - ? You mean – captured?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "Let's go," she snapped, then rose from her half-crouch. 

  
Jacen, still feeling a little numb, followed her slowly. But soon the siblings drew together, intimidated by the prospect of facing whatever lurked outside all alone. Kattaran had left the ship, they could sense his presence outside, but unfortunately they could also sense other people around. Not to mention the vast whirlwind of darkness that span the planet like a shroud. Side by side they stepped onto the wet black stone of Korriban, both trembling in the hot gales of the planet, both intimidated by the oppressive blanket of everlasting dark clouds that hung uncomfortably low above the valley. They knew of this place, had demanded to hear the story of that particular adventure over and over again when they'd been younger, thrilled by the drama it posed. But now, standing here on this planet, so close to a Sith stronghold that they both could sense the evil that had been wrought here over millennia, that tale quickly turned into nightmare. 

Alowyn Kattaran was standing alone a little way off, tall and intimidating, his blond hair a stark contrast to the planet's gloom.

"What're we gonna do?" Jaina whispered out of the corner of her mouth. 

What indeed. Neither of them had a weapon that would stand against an experienced NRI agent, safe for the Force. But Jacen felt doubtful about using even that in this place, and he could sense the same reluctance in his sister. Would the planet itself not corrupt their deeds if they were to use the Force here? A dire prospect. But then he remembered something their grand-father had told them when they had been younger and begun their training as Force-adepts in the new tradition. "The difference is in your mind, your own perception", Jacen whispered. Beside him, he saw Jaina's head whip around and a frown on her face. She had understood. Nodding once, she took a step forward.

"Why have you brought us here?" she demanded, her voice loud and clear. 

Across from them, Alowyn Kattaran seemed to smile. "Revenge," he replied at last. "For betrayal."

"You think Franzis Sarreti betrayed you when he surrendered the Empire to Yana Dar?" Jacen voiced the siblings' suspicion aloud.

The agent laughed mirthlessly, then shook his head. "You misunderstand, little ones," he hissed. "I believe we were humiliated and bound by infidels. Your kind," he spat, hatred in his eyes.

"Our kind?" Jaina repeated under her breath, stunned, but it was Jacen who caught on to what was happening.

  
"Yuuzhan Vong!" he called out in warning. Putting a hand on Jaina's shoulder he dragged her back toward the ship. "Let's go," he urged her, but she simply replied, "Too late."

Indeed, when he turned around toward the ship he could see that they weren't alone any longer. More people, human as well as Yuuzhan Vong had assembled in front of the ship, a grim wall of hostility. "What're we gonna do?" Jaina pleaded, hanging on to him.

"The caves," he prompted. "Beneath the temple."

The twins shared a horrified glance. Then Jaina nodded. "Guess we have no choice."

Turning back to where the Kattaran-thing stood, they saw that the alien was already getting rid of his human shell. How had he been able to fool the NRI? Jacen wondered suddenly. Their scanners must have shown his alien signature, right? No time to wonder. The Yuuzhan Vong was standing between them and the entrance to the underground maze of what had once been a burial site. And since none of the others seemed inclined to interfere Jacen edged closer toward the alien and the entrance, acutely aware of Jaina by his side. What to do about this Kattaran-imitator? Kill him, or incapacitate him? Jacen decided that first priority was reaching the caves. But then the Yuuzhan Vong, finally rid of his second skin, launched himself at the sibling. His face, honourably scarred, was a mask of rage as he swung an amphistaff at Jacen's chest, forcing the young man to reel back and drop to the slick ground. Jaina moved to intercept the alien, but Jacen saw at first glance that she would never succeed. Terrified, he reminded himself of what his grand-father had said. _The difference is in your mind_. He reached out to the forces running rampant on the planet and seized them, moulding them to his will. An instant later lightning flashed from the clouds, and Jacen grabbed his sister and hauled her away before it could strike. 

"Run!" he yelled, making for the cave. 

Together they half slid, half stumbled down into the cool darkness, into deadly silence. A few more minutes of headless flight followed, until Jaina stopped him, catching her breath. All around them the darkness was closing in, and Jacen knew with a sinking feeling that they were trapped.

"What now?" his sister asked, and he could sense her panic, even though he could not make out her features in the pitch-black darkness.

Suddenly a light appeared ahead, almost blinding them. A torchlight, carried by a little boy. Jacen froze, then forced himself to look at Jaina. She too, was staring rigidly at the apparition, then took a tentative step forward. "Liyuma," she called softly, as if afraid to scare the wraith off.

The boy beckoned for them to follow, and Jaina shrugged, before she took the lead. Uncomfortable, Jacen followed. The trio turned a corner, and suddenly the twins found themselves in quite another place. Stunned, the two of them gazed around at the lush jungle spreading before them, the gleaming ships of an unknown type that sat proudly on the green meadows surrounding them. And at the men and women of various species that bustled all around, seemingly agitated. They all wore ankle-length brown robes, creamy tunics bound with broad brown belts. And lightsabers. 

"Jedi," Jaina whispered, awed. "Where's he gone?"

Indeed. Liyuma had vanished. 

Jacen looked at his sister and felt his jaw drop. "You're wearing Jedi robes!" he exclaimed. 

Bewildered, she turned to face him, frowned, and raised her brows meaningfully. "So are you."

And then all hell broke loose.

TBC


	16. A step forward and one back

It was dark, once more, as the Cor'dan made his way through the empty streets of the poorer quarters of Byss' royal city. His senses were stretched to their limits as he drank in the night, aware of everything, letting the impressions flow through his mind unchecked, guided by more than being fully aware of where he was going. Inside the shell that was his body Naas Deron's presence was floating in the protective embrace of his power, content for now to let events flow before him. But there was a hint of anticipation in his soul too. Where was he going? For what purpose? He did not know, and so far he had not yet grown accustomed to this passive state of awareness that Anakin Skywalker for one seemed to have been able to suppress in his time as Cor'dan. Idly, Deron mused about Roj Kell, then, and wondered how that independent-minded creature had come to terms with three thousand years of this. The conclusion to that thought came promptly: he hadn't.   
  
A cool smile appeared on Deron's lips then, and gently he reasserted control over his own body, a sign for his having come to his destination. It was a Yuuzhan Vong dwelling, brimming with life, and the Cor'dan wondered briefly how he could ever describe to any of his acolytes what he was feeling right now. He couldn't. And that was a fact. His skin felt raw and overly sensitive, his eyes were blinded even by the darkness as he watched the currents of life that permeated the entire structure. It was a beautiful yet terrifying feeling, and he would regret having to give it up one day soon. But that was still in the future. The present was now. He recognised the dwelling at last, and smiled in understanding of what was required of him. Quietly stalking across the expanse of what passed as the living room he slipped into the quiet back of the building, where its owner slept fitfully, unaware of his presence.   
  
He stood for a while, gazing down at her sleeping features, before he dived beneath that surface and into her subconscious mind. Vengeance, fury, triumph and fear crashed into his own self, making him stagger back for a moment. It took some strength to overcome the assault of her emotions, but once he had managed his expression turned very grim. She had known, just as he had suspected. Gently, he lowered himself down to sit on the edge of her sleeping bunk, then extended a hand to brush across her cheeks. "Wake up," he whispered softly. "Wake up."   
  
She stirred, mumbled something in her own tongue, then her eyes fluttered open and her body went rigid as she recognised him. Her body jerked upright instinctively, but Deron's palm moved down over her chest to hold her back. "No fear," he murmured soothingly.   
  
"What do you want?" Alyn Cha demanded, fear swirling about her like a swarm of piranha beetles.   
  
Naas Deron smiled. "The truth," he replied. "Confirmation for what I know."   
  
"I thought you knew everything," she snapped, anger lancing through the cloud of fear like lightning.   
  
"Ah," he admitted, smiling. "But knowledge does not necessarily equal understanding. Domain Carr is not involved in this conspiracy, as you wanted to make Yana Dar believe. Does Jiliha know? Or care?" he continued bluntly, his almost black eyes resting unwaveringly on the priestess' face.   
  
She gazed at him, her mind racing to sort through the implications of his quiet confession. But she could not possibly know how much he truly understood. Finally she answered, "Jiliha does not care. But she knows."   
  
"And what do you stand to gain from that domain's demise?"   
  
"You tell me," she hissed.   
  
"You served Marayl Domain Carr faithfully, did you not? And your father betrayed him when he chose to accept Yana Dar as Empress. Which was why he had to die."   
  
"I hate her," Alyn Cha pressed out. "She has destroyed my people, their pride, their heritage."   
  
Naas Deron gave a solemn nod. "It had to die, Alyn Cha," he explained softly. "Sometimes change is needed in order to make survival possible."   
  
"We could have won," she sobbed, her emotions flowing freely now, sucked into the vortex of the Cor'dan's presence. "We could have mastered this galaxy."   
  
"Untrue," Deron countered then, his tone hardening. "Not as long as there was a guardian to protect our people against your invasion. And his successors will not let the future be turned into that past again. We have to look ahead, not back, Alyn Cha. It is that simple."   
  
"I cannot accept this human empress," she retorted shaking her head vehemently.   
  
"Then you cannot accept Jiliha either, can you?" he reasoned then, and saw her resolve falter. "And your father was killed for nothing. I know what game you are playing, priestess, you and your human allies. You delude yourself with dreams of purity. There is none, not while you are divided." His eyes narrowed somewhat. "What to do about you? Kill you? No," he answered himself. "That will not be necessary, I believe. You want your people's culture to survive? Then do not trust Jiliha. She will sacrifice your people for her ambitions."   
  
"No!" the priestess exclaimed, anger flashing in her mind once more. "She has made promises, and I will hold her to those."   
  
Naas Deron smiled. "It will be amusing to watch you try. But you now have a choice, Alyn Cha. Come to me, when you have made up your mind."   
  
"You seem very confident that I will chose your side," she mused aloud.   
  
He shrugged. "I know. And I understand," he told her then. "I am Cor'dan."   
It did not take the occupants of the Morning Glory long to find a Chiss task force, and Luke almost felt relieved when they were hailed by one of the beautiful, camouflaged Stealth Cruisers. Edging his own vessel closer, he was watching Bray La's reaction guardedly, but found only a hint of fear and more than a hint of curiosity in the Falleen's mind. No recognition. "Ready?" the Jedi Master asked softly, and his companion nodded. Calmly, Luke went about answering the call, and identified his vessel and himself, "This is Luke Skywalker aboard the Morning Glory. We intend to pay a visit to Csilla, if that is permitted, and meet with his Esteemed Highness Ja'han'mandana."   
  
There was a lengthy silence, and then a different voice, this one male, answered. "Master Skywalker," the Chiss said, "it is an honour. But why did you not announce your visit earlier?"   
  
"It was a minute decision;" Luke confessed. "And it is important that I see him."   
  
"You will have to contend with me first, I fear," the stranger replied then, sounding almost amused. "I am General Kalo'wyn," he introduced himself at last. "And I will be honoured to receive you aboard the Mahsenda."   
  
Luke felt his mind flush with exhilaration. The Mahsenda! This was Al'than'erudo's old ship, before he had left his people to serve the Council of Naboo. And General Kalo'wyn was also an old acquaintance, a courageous Chiss commander who had once committed the remains of his decimated claw-craft contingent to try and rescue his monarch from Yuuzhan Vong clutches. "General," the Jedi answered, relieved, "It is an honour."   
  
A little later, with the Morning Glory safely secured in one of the Mahsenda's holds, Luke and Bray La finally met their host. The formerly trim Chiss soldier had thickened somewhat around the middle, but it suited him, Luke found. The earnest expression on the general's face was broken by a light smile upon seeing the familiar shape of the Jedi Master disembark, and he walked over briskly to greet Luke and his companion. Introducing the Falleen, Luke observed the general closely, and found cautious curiosity in the Chiss' glowing red eyes. And then, all business-like, Kalo'wyn brought them to the familiar tactics room of his ship and asked bluntly, "And what is it that needs the Emperor's attention?"   
  
"Information," Luke confessed, settling into one of the not so comfortable chairs spread around the large display wall that dominated the middle of the room. "And the whereabouts of one Imperial general named Warrahm Domain Carr. She's supposedly on duty out toward your perimeter."   
  
Kalo'wyn cocked his head to the side curiously, as if trying to discern a different meaning behind the Jedi Master's request. Belatedly Luke remembered first meeting Al'than'erudo on this very ship, and the stunning revelation that he was Force-sensitive. But he could sense no such thing in Kalo'wyn. So what was eating him? Finally the Chiss answered, "The Emperor, as you can guess, is a busy man. I do not see how your request would merit a personal audience." Luke was taken aback. After all he and his family had done to save Ja'han'mandana and his people, he would have expected to be received with more hospitality. Kalo'wyn seemed to notice his consternation, for he hurried to assure him, "This is in no way related to your personal history with the Chiss," he said. "But we need to be cautious. The Emperor himself has ordered security to be increased. I cannot even begin at guessing at his motives."   
  
"I can," Luke breathed in a whisper. He remembered the foiled attacks on Franzis Sarreti's life, and what Bray La had told him about the disappearance of the Sith princess Luzaya Dan. He recalled the last pieces of news they had garnered before leaving Nirauan, of the accusations against Empress Yana Dar concerning the genocide of the Yevetha population of N'zoth. It was clear that the hostility between the Empire and the New Republic was growing once more, and the Chiss were more firmly associated with the Empress Yana Dar than President Fey'lya on Coruscant. Ja'han'mandana knew he had to be very cautious not to be caught in the midst of a rising struggle. Leaning forward and resting his elbows lightly on his knees, Luke fixed Kalo'wyn in a calm gaze. "And what about General Warrahm, Domain Carr?" he asked. "Is there anything you can tell us about her?"   
  
"A Yuuzhan Vong general, one of a growing number of officers from that part of the Imperial populace," the general reported. "Marayl Carr's daughter," he added helpfully, and Luke nodded with a smile.   
  
"Yes. I am aware of that." He cast a sideways glance at Bray La. "I am also aware of Domain Carr's extensive dealings with the Corporate Sector. You allow this? So close to your borders? Surely they are trying to get past your customs patrols. Domain Carr is too proud to rely on supplies from the Sith Empire. They are using black-market trade with the Chiss to support themselves."   
  
Kalo'wyn gave him a tight smile. "Master Skywalker, I am no customs officer - "   
  
"Ah, but my friend here is. Bray La, what do you say?"   
  
The Falleen, his earnest features giving way to a fleeting expression of pure amazement, hurried to reply. But he seemed just a little bit flustered by the Chiss' penetrating stare. "Well," he began haltingly, "we used to do this kind of thing, Alamys and me, while he was garnering monies for his troops. He used to funnel the goods through customs - through me - at a much cheaper rate, and sold them at market prices. He made quite some profit of it."   
  
"And you?" Luke prompted, still smiling. "What was in it for you?"   
  
Bray La flushed a deeper shade of green. "Credits," he confessed at last.   
  
The Chiss general gave him a disapproving glare. "Not very dutiful, your customs officer," he growled.   
  
"He's retired," Luke replied smoothly. "But I bet that Domain Carr is doing something similar." He held up his hand to keep Kalo'wyn from blurting out a reply. "But I also assume that His Esteemed Highness Ja'han'mandana is aware of these dealings. In fact, I believe he is playing a very clever game indeed."   
  
"Which would be?" Kalo'wyn's glowing eyes were very irritating.   
  
Luke's smile turned more serious. "I've done a few missions into the Corporate Sector," he told the two of them, "and I believe I know that they have the potential to wrack real havoc on the trade of both the Chiss and the Confederate Zone. The Sith Empire, thanks to Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology, is self-sufficient and only deals with the Chiss and the Confederate Zone for luxury goods its human citizens demand. And there's Domain Carr, sitting right on your door-step too. So Ja'han'mandana had to come up with a plan to disable the threat of the Corporate Sector smuggling cheaper goods into your territory, to keep the Confederate Zone appeased, and at the same time he wanted to make sure that Domain Carr could not grow too powerful."   
  
"How did he do it?" Kalo'wyn asked, his tone baffled.   
  
Luke nodded toward Bray La, who, during the long hours spent in transit from Nirauan to this point, had come up with this clever concept. The Falleen straightened his shoulders proudly, and the Jedi smiled at that. He could guess what the former customs officer was missing now that he had left the exciting realm of the Confederate Zone. He had been missing these games since Alamys' death, he had confided in the Jedi Master. Now, his eyes sparkling, he cocked his head to the side and said, "The trade treaties between the Confederate Zone and the Chiss are kept a secret, especially the conditions under which they operate. So it was easy for you to arrange for one of Domain Carr's agents to obtain a false treaty, assuming rightly that to fund themselves they would turn to the Confederate Zone to trade for their goods and sell those at a profit to the Chiss. But the treaty was manipulated so that in fact those smuggled goods came more cheaply into the Chiss Empire than the Confederate Zone could afford. Now Lemit Zickorey had to make concessions to your traders, and at the same time Domain Carr paid the Corporate Sector smugglers more than what the merchandise was worth. Everyone's out to make a profit, but only the Chiss are getting any."   
  
Luke laughed at Kalo'wyn's stunned expression. "Shrewd, I have to grant your Emperor that. No wonder he believes someone is out to get him."   
  
Instantly, the Chiss' features darkened. "You are a bit too clever for your own good, Master Skywalker. And your friend here. But I know what you are playing at. And yes. I will be taking you to Csilla. I believe that His Esteemed Highness will be greatly amused by your theories, ex-Customs Officer Bray La.   
  
"I hope so," the Falleen answered with grace.   
  
Grinning, Luke Skywalker turned from Bray La to face Kalo'wyn again, and for a moment he thought the entire ship was moving to the left as a shadow crossed his vision and mind. Gasping in shock, the Jedi Master felt something cold reach for his heart, and a blanket of sorrow settle over the Force. It took him a moment to recover, to fight his way back to the light of reality. And when he gazed at the other two occupants of the chamber he knew that they were aware that something grave had occurred.   
  
"What is it?" Bray La asked, sounding concerned.   
  
Luke was hard-pressed to describe his feelings. "The balance is shifting," he managed at last, and felt cold sweat accumulate on his forehead. "Something's happening."   
  
"Something good?" the Falleen questioned, frowning.   
  
"Let's hope so."   
Slipping his left hand around the back of her head he propped her up so she could swallow more comfortably. "Come on," Franzis whispered as he gently pushed the spoonful of stew to Yana's lips. Her eyes, unfocused, were turned toward the ceiling above and he was not at all sure whether they were seeing anything at all. "You've got to eat," he urged his wife and ran his thumb over her cheekbone slowly, lovingly.   
  
No matter that she did not recognize even him, he loved her, and he still had hope that they would both survive this somehow. With utmost delicacy Franzis parted her lips and slid the spoon into her mouth. This time the presence of food registered with her brain and she accepted it. When she swallowed the stew her husband breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good. That's very good. Now another." Patiently, he proceeded feeding Yana, but his thoughts were not entirely with his wife.   
  
He had no idea why Jiliha n'Averone was keeping him or Yana alive. She should know what she was risking, especially with Naas Deron out there. And Luzaya was alive. But he was all alone with his grief and worry, and the weight of it was really getting to him. Of course he also knew that his daughter's being alive and the Cor'dan's efforts could eventually save Yana's life, and his own. If Luzaya returned now, she would find thousands of supporters to stand by her side. And Jiliha and her New Republic cronies would stand no chance against a public protest such as the princess' homecoming would spark. But so far Luzaya showed no inclination to return, and Franzis did not blame her for her caution.   
  
Still, if she did not act fast Jiliha would have her mother tried for treason and executed, and would have free reign to make her usurpation of the throne legitimate. Lost in thought, Franzis gazed at the bleak wall opposite from where he sat, pondering his own options. There was not much he could do, actually. He had considered killing Jiliha himself, when she came to visit again. Though he had no weapons - the guards always checked every spoon before they would leave with the food tray, and the bed was screwed to the floor - Franzis was not helpless. Over the years he had kept up the skills he had earned during his training as Imperial agent and assassin, and he was well-versed in several deadly versions of unarmed combat. Unfortunately Jiliha knew that too. She knew far too much about him for comfort. And he knew far too little of the current situation outside this cell to come up with a real plan of action.   
  
How were the more conservative Yuuzhan Vong reacting to Jiliha? Domain Carr would certainly leap on the chance of gaining more power again now that Yana was out of the picture. But Jiliha would not negotiate with them, Franzis suspected. She was not the type to share power once she had it all. And again the Royal Consort had to smile at the shrewdness of Naas Deron's decision of sending Mahel Sivaraya with Luzaya on her trip to Naboo. Mahel was Marayl Carr's son, his youngest child, who had been barely four years old when the war ended in the bloody battles of Almashin and Kynda'bey. In a sense Mahel was also figurehead of a new generation of Yuuzhan Vong, as brave and courageous as his ancestors, but infused with the Cor'dan's teachings. Franzis made a face. The Cor'dan was far from compassionate, he knew. Naas Deron had been a dark warrior, a Sith Lord, for almost all his life, and he had lost touch to his more humane side over the years. Especially since he had lost his lover at the battle for Almashin.   
  
Franzis shuddered to think that his daughter had willingly chosen to serve such a man. But she had learned from that relationship, he knew, and so he could accept her choice after all. Luzaya Dan, her name standing for Life in Darkness, held the hearts and hopes of all those who had trusted Empress Yana Dar's rule over the past twenty years. As long as the princess was alive there was still hope, and with Mahel Sivaraya by her side, she might succeed to prevent the civil war Franzis Sarreti saw inevitably looming on the horizon. Domain Carr would not hold still while another human empress rose to power. And only Mahel could mediate here, but he was an outcast, rejected by his own domain. Still, Yana had confided in her husband that the Cor'dan trusted the young warrior fully. He had seen Mahel's future on his naming day, and Deron's entire gamble seemed to hinge on just that vision.   
  
Franzis shook his head wearily. Too much to think about with nothing he could do about it. It was a futile endeavour, and still, it felt good to keep his mind busy. Perhaps he could prevent himself from being surprised again that way…   
On the peaceful world of Naboo former queen Padmé Naberrie was preparing to have dinner with friends and family, and she was truly looking forward to this quiet get-together, so soothing in the midst of chaos. Anakin had left along with Mon Mothma and Bred Antham to present the Council's findings on Coruscant, but Tomas had been joined by his wife Raisa from Bilbringi, and the couple was always great company. She knew she was blessed with dear friends, and was grateful that they were here with her while her husband was far away. There was too much to worry about, and she longed for a little peace, if only for an evening. Dawdling in her dressing room she took great pains to make herself look presentable, sighing over wrinkles caught in the outer corners of her warm brown eyes, silver strands in her dark hair and the gentle sagging of ageing skin. She was still beautiful, but she had always been a perfectionist too. Anakin loved her, she knew, and he found nothing in a few wrinkles, and he told her that her skin was incredibly soft and warm to the touch, flattering her. He loved her, she thought fondly, as much as she loved him. Which was why she was going to all this trouble, after all. Because she wanted to look her best. Always.   
  
At last she had finished dressing and stepped out into the hallway. Wandering down the darkened length of the corridor toward the gardens, she was smiling to herself. The lodge was quiet and filled with shadows, but she had long learned to accept the comfort they lent. Still, she shuddered when she passed the portrait that guarded the back door, remembering just who had taught her to accept her own darkness. She slipped past hurriedly, and breathed deeply once she stood outside, the warm summer air filling her lungs with the scent of night-blossoming flowers that dotted the garden and the veranda. Stars reflected from the sky glittered on the lake's surface spreading before her, and the quiet sound of voices was carried lightly into the night, guiding her steps to where Anja, Tomas and Raisa were awaiting her. Stepping into the circle of smiling faces, she settled down onto the chair Tomas indicated he had reserved for her by his side, opposite from where Raisa sat, both arms wrapped around her husband's shoulders.   
  
Anja, holding a sleepy Amerie on her lap, was smiling at the couple fondly, and Padmé found herself doing the same. There was wine in a glass carafe on a slender table set in the middle of their circle, and she gracefully helped herself to a glass of the warm, fragrant liquid. Sipping the drink slowly, savouring the earthy taste, Padmé felt that this evening was truly perfect. They talked of trivial matters that night, swapping stories and sharing memories. But then, very suddenly, Padmé heard her grand-daughter stir in Anja's embrace. Looking over, she saw the little girl's golden eyes open like twin moons, wide and piercing. Without a word, Amerie slipped from Anja's lap and started toward the lodge. Anja shrugged once, then rose to follow the girl.   
  
"Let's all go inside," Padmé said then, quietly, her gaze fixed on the retreating figures of her friend and her son's daughter. She remembered Anakin telling her of the nightmares Amerie had confessed to him, of a bone-queen who was after her brother, and a darkness the small child could not grasp. The warm summer night suddenly seemed very chilly. Wrapping the shawl she had brought around her torso, Padmé led the way for Tomas and Raisa toward the house. The glittering lake had turned into a tempting trap of oblivion somehow, and she was anxious to get away from its lure. So very strange … "Amerie?" she called softly into the dark hallway. There was no sound at all. "Anja?"   
  
"Where are they?" Tomas asked, stepping into the corridor, alert and frowning, ready to protect the females left in his care.   
  
"I do not know," Padmé breathed.   
  
There was a distant shout, then, a child's protesting wailing. Padmé froze, all colour draining from her face. She dashed toward where she thought the sounds had come from, and found Amerie crying angry tears, and Anja equally anxious.   
  
"What happened?" Raisa demanded, then dropped to her knees next to her adopted grand-daughter and closed her arms about her. But Amerie fought free and scooted into a corner, her golden eyes glowing fiercely in the semi-darkness.   
  
Anja turned toward the three newcomers and gave a helpless shrug. "She said to leave her alone, but I wanted to know what was going on. I have no idea why she's so upset."   
  
"Amerie, darling," Padmé said softly as she knelt in front of the girl, tucking her dress under her knees, "what is it?"   
  
Amerie, legs hugged to her chest, her eyes unfocused, was trembling. "The boy," she said at last, voice shaking. "He is here. He called me."   
  
Frowning, Padmé looked over her shoulder and froze. Right in the middle of the room, obviously unseen by the others, stood a boy of perhaps eight years of age. He was slender and earnest, and pale green eyes were set into a bony face. There was nothing child-like about him, in truth. And Padmé knew him. She knew him even then. Closing her eyes briefly, she turned back toward her granddaughter, shuddering. "Amerie," she asked softly, "do you know what he wants?"   
  
The little girl nodded, then put her chin on her knees, her golden eyes almost hidden behind her dark curls. "He wants Khammy," she said.   
  
"Khammy?"   
  
"Grandma, do you know the boy?" she asked in a whisper.   
  
"Is he gone now?" Padmé asked right back.   
  
Amerie sighed, "Yes."   
  
"All right," Padmé said then, reached out and wrapped her granddaughter in her arms. She lifted the girl up and settled her in the crook of her right elbow. "Amerie, do you think Khammy is in danger?   
  
"Is the little boy bad?"   
  
That was a question Padmé was not quite prepared to answer a girl of six. How to compress the deeds of three thousand years into a single word? "That is not very easy to tell, my little morning star." With a shudder she turned to face the other adults. "Don't worry," she told them, and regretted very much that the evening's spell had been broken so brutally. For a moment she was very thoughtful, reflecting on the boy's appearance. What did it mean? Was this a message of sorts? Her heart skipped a beat when she realised something. "The Seeker," she mumbled under her breath, then hurried toward the office where Anakin and Talon kept the original equipment, Amerie still held to her chest.   
  
As expected the program was ticking away undisturbed, non-stop, as it always did. But one of the screens was showing something else than a data-stream. A holo-net broadcast. It was the crude recording of a battle on a world Padmé did not recognise at first, because her eyes were locked on the two familiar shapes featured on the screen: Jaina and Jacen. She almost dropped Amerie in shock. A bolt of lightning stabbed from the stormy skies as they watched in rapt silence, killing the Yuuzhan Vong who had seemingly been attacking the twins instantly. And Padmé knew exactly what that looked like. The world was Korriban, strong-hold of the Sith, and one or both of the twins had obviously used the Dark Side to get rid of their assailant. At least that was how it would look to the common being out there, watching. She set her grand-daughter down, almost not waiting for her to find her footing.   
  
Then the image changed, and the familiar face of Ambassador Niki Beryd appeared on screen. "Her Highness Yana Dar is very grateful to Jedi Knights Jaina and Jacen Solo for their intervention, but since her daughter has not yet been recovered, she has ordered sanctions against the Yuuzhan Vong populace in retribution for Yuuzhan Vong involvement in her daughter's kidnapping," the diplomat explained calmly, obviously answering some question that had come before the recording.   
  
"So you would say that Empress Yana Dar is siding with the Jedi?" the interviewer, unseen, asked then.   
  
Beryd's mouth curled into a strange smile. "I said she was grateful for their disabling Mahel Sivaraya, apparently the princess' own bodyguard."   
  
"Then he was behind her kidnapping?"   
  
"Apparently so."   
  
"But where is the princess now?"   
  
Ambassador Beryd made a mournful face. "We do not know. But our prayers are with the royal family."   
  
"You mentioned sanctions. What sanctions would that be?"   
  
"Tighter controls, a nightly curfew and numerous arrests so far," the woman answered calmly. "I do not know how far she is prepared to go."   
  
"Stop recording," Padmé ordered the Seeker then, surprised at how composed she was. "Replay." She frowned at the image, then ordered, "Freeze here." Slowly, she turned from the screen to face the rest of her little company. "If that is Mahel Sivaraya I am my own grandmother," she announced dryly. "What are the chances of his acquiring age-old honour scars in so short a time?" she added, gesturing at the mutilated visage behind her.   
  
Tomas growled softly, his gaze fixed on the image. "They're trying to whip up the public against Yana, and against the Council," he commented quietly. "I don't like this."   
  
"Neither do I," Padmé agreed. "We need to tell Al'than'erudo at once." Preparing to rush from the chamber to contact the Head of the Council she almost ran over Amerie, who seemed paralysed with fear, her golden eyes staring blankly into infinity. "Sunshine," her grand-mother asked, concerned. "What is it now?"   
  
The answer was as short as it was desperate. "Khammy." Only that single word, but there was such loss in her tone, that Padmé felt her own heart clench with grief. Helplessly, she looked up at her friends, and found them as stunned as she felt.   
  
"Force be merciful," she whispered. "Let him be all right."   
"Mom, I'm cold," Khameir Sarin-Skywalker complained, as he stumbled through the ankle-high mud that made for the only track that led through the dense woods of Ordesha's northern continent. Arms wrapped around his torso to lend warmth, he wore a sullen expression on his face. But his mother, striding across the sodden earth with a grace that brought envy to his heart, did not seem to hear his protests. Or else she ignored him. In fact, Khameir himself thought he was being foolish and childish, but he was bored and really tired too. They had been hiking the wilderness for days now, since it was almost impossible to bring a ship close to the mountain range his mother was aiming for. And she had insisted on stalking their prey on equal terms.   
  
Doctor Plawal and his team had left the town of Seca Ville two days ahead of the two of them, on another excursion into the mountains, as Nuron had found out. She had begun preparations for their own departure almost instantly, and Khameir had felt left out of the picture completely. Of course, his mother was not used to taking her son on missions with her, but he had expected that she would at least explain what she was doing and why. No such thing happened. Nuron Sarin-Skywalker was focused only on the hunt. And she apparently meant to leave her son to watch and wonder while she acted. Khameir was peeved mightily at her behaviour, but he had been brought up to be respectful toward his elders, and it was hard to shed those bonds. But soon now he would, he swore to himself. Soon.   
  
He almost walked into his mother when she stopped, and was very surprised when she turned to face him. "Khameir, I want you to be quiet now," she told him sternly. "No more complaints. You wanted to come and now you deal with it. I can't spare time to explain what's before your eyes. Just watch. And learn."   
  
She'd never been so hostile in teaching him before, Khameir found, bewildered. What was different? The answer came instantly, and was actually very simple. And sobering. His decision to come along had marked his first step into adult life. She would not teach him like she would a child, not any longer. For a moment he felt actually proud. But then the drizzle that constantly poured cold rain-water down the neck of his shirt doused his enthusiasm again. "Okay," he sighed, hunching his shoulders some more.   
  
They hiked for four hours longer that day, and at last they had reached their destination. A cave. Scrambling up the steep decline in the twilight of falling night, Khameir and Nuron made enough noise to wake the dead, the boy found, disapproving. But his mother seemed undisturbed by his silent rage and simply turned on her torch-light once they had reached the cave-mouth, and let the bright beam cut through the inky blackness before them. "We're going to rest in there, where it's dry," she announced, then dimmed the torch-light somewhat. "Watch out," she admonished her son as she stepped into the cave.   
  
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, and let his ears perk up to catch even the faintest of sounds that swirled throughout the cave's depths. He could sense that there were people close by, at the foot of the cliff, a few miles to the east. Plawal's camp? It seemed reasonable to assume that the scientist and his crew had no desire to camp so close to a cavern that was a focal point for the Force and ancient Sith custom. Prudent, that, and stupid, Khameir mused, not without proud scorn. They were no Jedi, no Force-adepts like him or his mother. Mother knew that there was nothing to fear inside this cave, that it responded only to the hearts of those who came to visit.   
  
Sliding down over wet stone into the belly of the natural cave, Khameir concentrated on his surroundings even harder. There seemed to be a faint echo of something, not power, but something else. Peace? Despair? It was so hard to tell! Mother's torch was pitiful against the vast darkness that filled the cavern, but Khameir was not afraid. He had his senses to rely on, after all. Curious, he slipped ahead of Nuron, to be the first to discover what secrets this place held. Soon, he encountered the far wall, and stopped, shuddering. The feeling of despair was strongest here, but it was drowned out by sheer elation, a feeling so strong it was almost a physical thing. Frozen in place, Khameir fought to draw a breath. Then, his mother's voice.   
  
"Khameir."   
  
She sounded calm and composed, but suddenly he could sense her anxiety, and slowly turned to see what was wrong. For a moment he was blinded by the bright beam of light cutting across his vision, but then he squinted it away, and saw. A woman, a stranger, facing his mother. Tall and slender, the human female wore her rather primitive clothing like a queen. Bone necklaces adorned her slender shoulders and bracelets clattered as she moved toward them. Khameir felt dizzy all of a sudden, knowing without any doubt that this was the bone-queen Amerie had warned him of. Fierce protectiveness engulfed his being then, and he stepped forward to shield his mother from the spirit's intentions, whatever they might be. But Nuron, noting his attempt to intervene with an approving nod, lay a hand on his shoulder to hold him back, and addressed the woman directly. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice still calm. And Khameir could tell that she was calmer inside too now.   
  
Relaxing a bit, he waited for the stranger's answer along with his mother. The woman, her green eyes large and dark, did not acknowledge the Zabrak female confronting her and instead focused her attention on the adolescent boy standing beside her. "Khameir Sarin-Skywalker," she said, her voice surprisingly warm and deep. "You have come."   
  
"My sister sent me," he answered, and wondered where that thought had come from.   
  
"Ah, yes," the woman said with a smile. "The mediator. She is very gifted."   
  
Khameir accepted that compliment with a wary nod, but made no reply. Beside him, Mother jerked around to look at him. "She is the woman Amerie had nightmares of?" Her son nodded. Golden eyes narrowing, Nuron Sarin-Skywalker moved in front of Khameir and demanded, "Tell me what you want of my children."   
  
For the first time the stranger acknowledged her, her gaze unfathomable. "I did not call you," she countered then, a note of anger in her tone now. "I called him."   
  
"Why?" Khameir asked, trembling now, both with fear and exhilaration. He'd wanted an adventure, hadn't he? Now he got it.   
  
The woman's face softened. "For him. To let him understand, and to enable him to grieve properly. He never knew the truth. You can show it to him."   
  
Frowning, Khameir cocked his head to the side, when he saw a small face peek at him from behind the nameless woman. A boy, he thought, very thin, with earnest eyes and a presence that radiated something Khameir had rarely seen or felt. In fact, he had experienced something like this only once before. When his sister had been born. The first time he had laid eyes on the baby, he had felt all warm inside, filled with protectiveness and pride and love. This was how this boy felt like. Smiling, Khameir went down on his haunches, to compress his tall frame into something smaller, less threatening.   
  
"Hello," he said softly, addressing the boy. "Tell me who you are?" The child edged around the woman's legs cautiously, and Khameir saw that his eyes were a pale green, and his hair as black as the woman's. The likeness between them then named them mother and son. And Khameir knew. "Liyuma," he breathed, feeling suddenly cold inside, and afraid. His head snapped up to look at the woman, who had to be Alda Magor, and asked, "What do you want me to show him? What could I show him?" He almost panicked at the sheer responsibility to show a man who had lived three thousand years something he did not know. Was that at all possible?   
  
"You can show him things the way he should have seen them, not the way he did. And you can show me," she added softly.   
  
Bewildered and frightened, Khameir sought his mother's gaze. But she only stood there, tall and forbidding, a stranger too, all of a sudden. Desperate, Khameir turned his eyes on the boy again. "What? What do you need to see?"   
  
"The past," Alda Magor explained, as her son kept his silence.   
  
Khameir's mind short-circuited then, banishing all reason, allowing his emotions to rule him completely. And he reached out, one trembling hand extended toward the quiet boy, and the child returned his gesture to touch him, his skin cool and real and soft. There was a moment when the world seemed to slide, and Khameir was caught in darkness. Only gradually did he became aware of tiny golden strands of light, barely visible. But as he looked on they grew, connecting into a net, like sun-beams falling through water. There were voices in that light, no, one voice, so beautiful that Khameir at first did not know whether it was male or female. There was only one man he knew of who had had such a magical voice. Khameir felt trapped, somehow, tensing involuntarily, expecting an assault at any moment. But then the voice changed, became less threatening, less beautiful, and then the light grew so bright that he could not see anything at all.   
Jacen and Jaina would never have thought that time-travelling would be so strenuous. They had found out soon enough that they somehow had managed to land someplace centuries ago, part of a mission of Jedi to some strange planet. They did not dare ask too many questions, lest they be found out for what they were: intruders. Among these Jedi their age marked them as Padawan learners, and it was hard enough to always appear busy, to avoid questions about their respective masters. But they had found allies too, among the real Padawan among the crew. Most of them did not question, they merely accepted, aware of the fact that they were not being told everything of their mission themselves. So why should they wonder about two strange Padawan? But there were others too, who wondered, and watched suspiciously. One of them was Klatoun Arden, a young man of twenty, on the verge of moving on into knighthood, and in love with the mystery Jaina and her brother presented. He did not exactly follow them around, and he never dared tell them off, for fear of offending their masters with false accusations. But he was alert, and he asked questions.   
  
Which was, considering, not too bad, Jaina thought. After all, the game was played by two, and she had managed to salvage some pointers as to the era they found themselves in, although the question of how and why still lacked an answer. Secretly she was hoping for Liyuma to return and enlighten them somehow, though so far he had been pretty close-mouthed as to his intentions. Which was another riddle to solve. But for now their problems were more immediate. The twins were sitting together on a fallen log that crossed a small stream, off the camp-site where two Republic ships had settled permanently. Republic ships. The Old Republic. Jaina shook her head.   
  
"If I understand correctly we are three thousand years back in the past," she explained to Jacen, who was staring glumly into the water beneath their dangling feet. "Do you know what that means? We're almost into the second Sith War, and this place - " She spread her arms in exasperation. "This is Os'jen'thana!"   
  
Jacen looked over at her, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. That planet. That Sith Lord. The one who had brought them here. For what purpose, they did not know. It was impossible.   
  
"This is impossible," Jacen voiced her opinion aloud. "Time-travel is practically impossible."   
  
"Not if the Force binds everything, past, present and future. It could be done." Her eyes misted over in thought. "Klatoun says it could be an illusion, created from memories."   
  
"Liyuma's?" Jacen asked, and demanded, "And since when do you confide in Mister I'm-so-gorgeous?"   
  
Jaina blushed at that. It was true. Klatoun was certainly not bad-looking, and he seemed to be fascinated by her, which was flattering all in itself. "He's not that way," she defended the Padawan then, surprised at herself. "He hasn't told us off yet, has he?"   
  
"He still might," Jacen replied gruffly, kicking his legs. "And we can't keep this farce up that much longer. Someone will start asking questions someday soon. What about Klatoun's master? He's conducting this mission, isn't he? What if he asks your friend who it is he's hanging around with all the time?"   
  
At that his sister kept silent. Yes, what would happen then? They'd have to justify their presence, tell the truth, if that was possible. But would they believe them? "It isn't my fault," she murmured at last, feeling just a little bit angry at Jacen for his inquisitive tone. "They're looking for some Sith - "   
  
"And what do you think will happen when they find out there are two people who don't belong with the group? Wouldn't that brand us as spies? Sith spies?"   
  
"Don't be ridiculous!" Jaina exclaimed, rolling her eyes. But he had a point, she had to admit to herself. Unfortunately. "Liyuma's clan," she said then, to change the subject. "They think they are Dark Jedi."   
  
"You know what that means, don't you?" Jacen asked, voice trembling. "What will happen."   
  
Jaina stared off into the distance, not answering for a time. She knew. Yes indeed. The Jen-clan's destruction, the death of Roj Kell's people. What he would do years later, to the men and women who would settle on Os'jen'thana in the wake of this genocide. "Do you think he means us to change something here?"   
  
"We can't," Jacen reminded her. "This has already happened."   
  
She nodded solemnly, and hung her head, gazing at the busy water in front of her. "But there has to be a reason for us being here." She looked over at her twin. "Right?"   
  
Before he could reply, there was a shout, then more voices were raised in excitement, and the camp behind them came alive with fear and determination. The siblings turned back simultaneously, and wordlessly, without having to share a word, rose to go back and find out what was happening. It was that calm response that Jaina would remember later, the utter peace with which they turned toward disaster, as if compelled by their own history. In a way, she would later find, it had been exactly that. Their history.   
Two weeks had passed since he had found Alda at the well one morning, pale as a ghost, her lovely face gaunt and old, her pale green eyes haunted, as she had tried to wash nightmares away from her body and memory. A futile endeavour. He had seen the terror in her eyes for days afterwards, until it had turned into resignation gradually. Lyve Waroon knew what this meant. Trouble. He had been a Jedi Knight for over fifteen years, and his sensitivity to his surroundings had not been muted at all by his fall to darkness thirty years ago. It would have been naive to believe that his presence on Os'jen'thana would remain undetected for all times. Ever since he had first come to this world two decades ago, the leader of an expedition sent out to determine the small world's value as a new base for the Sith Order, Lyve had known that this first encounter with civilisation would not remain the last for the Jen-People.   
  
Over the years more off-worlders had come to hunt the equines in the plains and the predators of the mountain forests, and the Jen-People had been forced to withdraw into the less accessible parts of their realm. Yet civilisation was seeping unstoppably into Os'jen'thana. Some of the hunting companies were establishing permanent settlements and resorts in the plains and at the beautiful forest lakes, hoping to lure more customers. Traders supplied the hunters with everything they needed and even sought to interest the Jen-People in their goods. Confrontations had therefore become unavoidable. That was one of the reasons why Alda had sent their son away on his Jer'fra a year ago, entrusting him into the care of a trader they had known for long years.   
  
The boy, no, the young man, had grown increasingly restless and increasingly reckless, too, as was customary for someone special like he was. He had been involved in a few fights accidentally, but his temper, his magic and his fighting skills had earned the Jen-People the settlers' animosities and now threatened to doom the clan. Soon now the reports and rumours that the traders and hunters brought back from Os'jen'thana would find their way to the wrong ear, and the Jedi might conclude correctly that Os'jen'thana had become a haven for the hunted Sith.   
  
The Jen-People were a Sith clan, one of the last surviving ones, perhaps the only one remaining. They had nothing in common with the Dark Jedi who called themselves Sith today, men and women like Lyve Waroon, who would become the initial target for any investigation on the Jedi Order's part. The Sith had been a great culture once, commanding a large empire, but internal strife had reduced them to what they were now. Only the Cor'dan remained. Once religious leader and most powerful being of the empire, the Cor'dan was now no more than a shaman. At least that was what the so-called civilised people believed. Lyve, being married to a former Cor'dan, knew better.   
  
He remembered Alda's days of power well enough. But where she would once have been able to avert the clash of her people with civilisation she was now powerless against its advance. Sending her son away was a gesture of defeat, of a new beginning in the making, and Lyve felt that the Sith would either perish for good or be gloriously reborn one day. Knowing his son, that head-strong warrior who sought knowledge with a passion that bordered on obsession, Lyve considered both possibilities. The boy was capable of either running the wagon into the ground or into heaven. As an off-worlder himself, he had often marvelled at how different the Jen-People were, how innocent and knowledgeable. Again, his son was the prime example for both. But his son was not here.   
  
A sudden boom shook him out of his musings and he paused, making himself meld with his surroundings. He was standing on a small, overgrown ledge that hugged the side of the mountain and led down into the valley from where the booming noise had come from. The noise returned, and only then did he realise what it meant. Moving through the forest undergrowth with the practised economy of a hunter, the Sith Lord thought nothing of confronting these intruders alone. First, he would merely scout out their numbers and destination, then he would return to report to the Elders and his wife. His path led him to one of the outer settlements of the largest hunting franchise operating on Os'jen'thana. Crude huts had been erected, with more sheds to accommodate the hunters, workers and their trophies. Animal skins and carcasses littered the small square that marked the middle of the settlement, and on the far side of the buildings a large area had been cleared to allow ships to start and land. It was there that the booming noises were coming from.   
  
Three ships, one of it in the process of landing, had come to Os'jen'thana. They were carrier ships, but Lyve did not recognise the fabricate. Suspicious, he stalked even closer, but recoiled when he saw the all too familiar figures of two men dressed in Jedi robes, who were making their way to the village square. There, a number of hunters and a representative of the hunting franchise were awaiting them. Sharpening his hearing, Lyve strained to hear what they were saying.   
  
"Yes, Master Jedi, there are savages like you describe them living in the mountains," the representative reported just then.   
  
"No savages," the Jedi, an elderly human, explained. "We heard reports about a warrior who sought to challenge the traders and hunters? A young man?"   
  
"They've witches and wizards, these people," the other man continued, ignoring the question. "They're pretty scary, I tell you! This young man you speak of scoffs at our customs and insults us whenever he has the opportunity. They have a representative, an older man, who seems civilised enough. But he is not beneath threatening us too, if he deems it necessary."   
  
"Could we perhaps speak to this man?" the younger Jedi asked.   
  
Lyve had heard enough. Deciding to take his chances, he casually strolled across the clearing and toward the square. Immediately the hunters noticed his approach and some hefted their weapons, watching him anxiously. The franchise representative was gesturing wildly, obviously explaining to the Jedi that this was the man they wanted.   
  
"Greetings," Waroon said as he joined the men in the square. "I heard of these new arrivals and came to see who it was."   
  
"Greetings, chief," the representative grumbled, "these are Master Jedi Noci La'ruus and his Padawan Klatoun Arden."   
  
Lyve did not reply, but he paled considerably, when he heard the older man named his childhood friend. He had not even recognised him! But Noci, his blonde hair almost completely gone, obviously had not forgotten about him. With a grim nod, the Jedi Master straightened his shoulders and said, "I know this man. Lyve, it has been a very long time."   
  
"Indeed," the Sith Lord replied weakly, suddenly anxious. The Jedi Padawan seemingly noticed the change of mood, and frowned first at his mentor, then at Waroon. "And what brings you here?"   
  
"Rumours," Noci told him firmly, "and justified ones too, it seems. You left us a long time ago, but we never forgot about you or your friends. So this is where you have been hiding all these years?"   
  
"I am the only one left," Lyve hurried to assure his former friend. "The others are all dead."   
  
"Is that so. This man just told me that there was an entire clan of savage magicians out there. And you are telling me there are no Sith on this planet?"   
  
"They are not what you think, Noci, and I wish you to leave them in peace."   
  
"I was sent here to investigate these rumours," Noci retorted, a nasty smile on his lips, "and that I will. You will not stand in my way. I will have you arrested for what you are. Klatoun, call reinforcements. Tell them to hurry."   
  
"Who is this man?" the Padawan asked, fumbling for his comlink.   
  
"A Sith Lord," La'ruus explained with some satisfaction. "I hope you will come peacefully, Lyve. I would not enjoy having to hurt you."   
  
The man named Lyve Waroon felt an icy shudder run through his very soul, as he fought to keep his own identity, to suppress the vivid memories of so long ago. He was not a Sith Lord. He was not Lyve Waroon, father to Liyuma, husband to Alda Magor. He was Khameir Sarin-Skywalker, and he had to keep his wits about him. Definitely. But what to do? The being that was a mere shadow of who Lyve had once been was strongly suggesting for a violent course of action while Khameir, young and inexperienced, favoured a more cautious approach. He knew what was at stake. They both knew. Whatever he did now would affect the fate of the Jen-People. And, knowing what he did, Khameir really saw only one single path to take.   
TBC   
A teaser from the next chaper:   
Khameir took another deep breath, nodding at Liyuma. "What about your son?" he asked. "He came back to slaughter the settlers in retribution for your clan's destruction. Was that wise?"   
  
"He was hurting," Alda countered wearily. "And he knew there was no excuse for that deed. He has never known excuses."   
  
"Is that why he has come back?" Jaina asked then. "To atone for his crimes?"   
  
All eyes were on the little boy at Alda Magor's side, but the child did not respond, keeping silent even then. The sorceress followed their gaze, then gave a short laugh when she understood. "My son is long gone!" she exclaimed, seemingly amused by their assumption. "This," she gestured at the wraith by her side, "is a farewell gift. Triggered by a Jedi's presence on N'zoth." Her pale eyes focused on Khameir again. "To guide a new generation, when the time was right. Or didn't you wonder why he would interfere only now, if this was truly his spirit? He bound me too, to respond to intruders here in this cave."   
  
Khameir blushed, but did not reply. It was Jacen who summed up what they had heard so far. "Then his intention was to make contact again once he could be certain that an unbiased generation had grown up," he mused aloud. "Jaina trusted him, and I did too, despite what we knew about him. Isn't that the ultimate gesture of forgiveness?" he asked, sounding awed.   



	17. Guardian

  
Jacen Solo hurried after his sister toward the centre of the camp, where Klatoun Arden was talking rapidly to some of the senior members of the strike team. Grim faces could be found all around, and Jacen felt pretty uneasy as he and Jaina sidled closer to the growing assembly. Jaina, totally unabashed, pushed her way through the crowd toward Klatoun, demanding, "What is going on?"   
  
"A Sith Lord," the Padawan explained, his face flushed with excitement and his eyes feverish with anticipation. "A real Sith Lord! He's called Lyve," he added, glancing at the older Jedi, in hopes for any recognition of the name on their part.   
  
One of the elders indeed gave a solemn nod. "Lyve Waroon, yes," he murmured. "He left us over twenty years a ago. A promising Jedi Knight." The man's eyes turned very stern. "His fate should be an example to you, how easily one can fall to darkness."   
  
"Master La'ruus asked for reinforcements," Klatoun continued doggedly. "We must join him at once."   
  
"Indeed," the older Jedi Knight replied. "I do not want any Padawans with us, but you, Klatoun, can come. Be careful, though, and remain at a safe distance."   
  
"We are coming too," Jacen blurted out, excitement mingling with terror in his mind. He had an inkling of who that Sith Lord might be. Lyve Waroon, as far as he recalled had been sire to Roj Kell.   
  
"Your masters should teach you respect for your elders," the Jedi Knight retorted sharply. "You will stay, young Jacen."   
  
Realising the danger of his drawing attention to them at last, Jacen clamped his mouth shut, but threw a desperate glance at his sister. Jaina was gazing at Klatoun, cool calculation in her eyes. She joined her brother presently, whispering, "We can't let them begin this massacre. No matter what. We may not be able to change the future, but we can prove that we are true Jedi." She gave him a challenging look. "Is that not our directive? To protect life at all costs?"   
  
Jacen gave a solemn nod. "Yes, it is. But let's try to keep cool, sister. We are not here to fight a war. We cannot save them all by ourselves." He saw his sister's eyes widen as she realised what he meant. There was only one man who could prevent this slaughter, and that man was Lyve Waroon himself. He nodded, "Yes. If we can convince him to surrender, if we can convince the Jedi that these people are not at all evil, then we might have a chance."   
  
"Those odds are not at all reassuring," she replied softly. "Jacen, if we take his side we will betray ourselves."   
  
"Indeed." His voice was firm. "This is a test, Jaina, has to be. We will have to stand up for what we have been taught, the way Uncle Luke always did and Mom still does even as a politician. We have to take that risk."   
  
Jaina hesitated. "Do you truly think this is what he wants us to do?"   
  
He shrugged. "Only one way to find out, right?" When he saw Jaina's eyes widen in response to something happening behind him he whirled around, startled, "What is - "he began, then fell silent, mouth agape.   
  
Five men were walking into the camp, one of them Master La'ruus, the others all strangers, but one was familiar too, in his own way. Strangely familiar. Dressed in primitively fashioned pants and shirt the man bore himself with a dignity that made Jacen wonder whether the Sith Lord knew what he was facing at all. There was no fear in his eyes, on his features, only calm resignation. And La'ruus too, Jacen saw, seemed very calm and composed. But there was something lurking in his gaze, something Jacen had no trouble identifying: triumph. The two of them stepped into the circle of Jedi in silence, and it took some time for one of the assembled knights and masters to finally speak. The other three men were employees of the hunting franchise, Jacen guessed, and they stayed well back, listening.   
  
"Master La'ruus," the oldest, Master Tron Wyse, a giant Ithorian, intoned at last. "Who have you brought before us?" His voice seemed strangely distorted by the fact that he was speaking out of two mouths, but his words were clearly audible.   
  
To Jacen's surprise it was the Sith Lord who replied. "My name is Lyve Waroon. A few of you might still remember me," he added, nodding at the assembly in general. There was a bit of feet-shuffling and assenting murmurs. "Long years ago I and a few of my comrades came to Os'jen'thana to scout for a new base for the Sith Order," he continued, "but I was the only one who survived this planet."   
  
"Is this world so dangerous, then?" Tron asked gently. "Or the clans the hunters fear so greatly even now?   
  
Lyve quirked a cool smile. "Not really," he answered. "The simple reason was that I killed all the others."   
  
If there had been any doubt as to who this man was, that comment was so reminiscent of his son that Jacen almost smiled. Since neither of the other Jedi present had ever heard of Roj Kell their response was quite different.   
  
"Killed them?" Tron repeated, aghast. But then he shook his head as if he wanted to say that he had not expected anything else from a Sith Lord. "You betrayed your comrades."   
  
"They sough to destroy the clan," Lyve shrugged. "I could not let them do that."   
  
It was Master La'ruus who asked, "Could not, or would not?" A frown of suspicion marred his forehead.   
  
"Could not," Waroon explained, seemingly uncomfortable with his own answer. "I had no choice in that regard."   
  
"And why not?"   
  
"The Cor'dan, the clan's spiritual leader, had recognised the danger our group posed and had selected me as most potential weapon to neutralise that threat. She - made me - kill the others."   
  
"A truly monumental feat for a savage witch to conquer the trained mind of a former Jedi Knight," Tron huffed. "Hardly credible."   
  
Lyve Waroon hesitated. Then he said, "That depends. I realised the validity of her decision later on. I would have done the same in her place, probably."   
  
"Because you are a Sith," La'ruus suggested, "and you have just confirmed what we already suspected. These people meddle with the Dark Side. I say we investigate further. This Cor'dan," he continued, addressing Waroon once more, "could she be spoken to?"   
  
Warily, Waroon shook his head. "No. She is not Cor'dan any longer. She is not the one you want."   
  
Jacen noticed a hint of evil flash in the back of the hunters' minds then and he felt his heart skip a beat. Did Waroon know what advantage he had just given away by telling them that their most powerful adversary, the protector of the clan, was no longer in a position to oppose them?   
  
Master La'ruus turned to face the former Jedi Knight in some bewilderment. "What do you mean? Who is their spiritual leader then? Do they succeed one another?"   
  
The Sith Lord grew even more uncomfortable, and for some reason he kept glancing at Jacen and Jaina. "He has left for a while to find his way," he explained at last, leaving his answer as ambiguous as possible.   
  
That way the men and women surrounding him could not know whether that meant that the Cor'dan was off-world or if he was still on planet. And Jacen had an inkling of who that Cor'dan was. A shiver ran down his spine then at the thought of meeting Roj Kell in person, but then he reminded himself that Kell was probably just now beginning his apprenticeship to Exar Kun. For a brief moment he regretted that they could not change the past after all. What would have happened if Kell had never left Os'jen'thana? If he had never met Exar Kun? He quickly stopped that train of thought. The possibilities simply were too depressing. Reminding himself of their own mission he edged closer toward his sister. "What do you think he is planning?" he asked very softly, and Jaina glanced over at Klatoun, as if for reassurance, much to her brother's annoyance.   
  
"All I know is that for some reason a little voice in the back of my mind keeps insisting that he is not who he seems," she replied, her voice low. "I keep finding myself thinking he's really Khameir."   
  
Jacen stared at her. "What? But that's impossible!"   
  
Her answer was delivered in a very dry tone. "Really? Look at us, then, back in the past, or someone's memory of the past, and tell me again that's impossible." She glared hard at the fidgeting Sith Lord. "We should talk to him as soon as possible."   
  
They watched as Master La'ruus and the older Jedi took the Sith Lord in their midst and led him toward one of the ships, to be questioned, Jacen guessed. Then Klatoun joined them, his face flushed with excitement. "What an adventure!" the young man exclaimed, beaming. "What do you say, should we go scout out the village? Perhaps we will even uncover the Cor'dan's hiding place," he suggested enthusiastically.   
  
But neither Jacen nor his sister were overly taken by his proposal. The twins shared a glance, then Jaina gently put a hand on Klatoun's forearm and began to walk him away, "You know," Jacen heard her say, "perhaps we should leave this to our elders. If that Cor'dan could alter the mind of a Dark Jedi, what would he do to us?"   
  
What indeed, Jacen thought to himself, but his eyes wandered toward the distant mountains of Os'jen'thana and he wondered what secrets were hidden up there. And he wondered whether it had been Liyuma who had sent Khameir to their aid. But why disguised as Sith Lord? What was he trying to accomplish with this scheme? He shuddered at the thought of being no more than a pawn in one of Kell's devious machinations, unable to affect the events that had swept them up like a storm that again threatened to destroy everything that had grown since the end of the war. Until they had not uncovered Liyuma's motives they could not be certain whether their actions would bring salvation to the Jen-people, or disaster.   
Khameir hoped he had done the right thing by surrendering. He thought that if he eliminated the threat he posed to the Jedi they would be more amenable to listening to him when he explained that the Jen were in no way dangerous. But perhaps he had revealed too much already by mentioning the Cor'dan and his power, especially since Alda had sent their son away. Their son. My stars! Khameir shook his head violently, trying to gain some measure of control over the dead man's mind. He felt uncomfortable wearing this unfamiliar skin and he found that Lyve Waroon had not been a nice man at all. A loving husband and father, perhaps, but the things he had done, first in service to the Sith, then in order to protect his people - Not nice at all. Khameir could well imagine how the Sith Lord had reacted to the Jedi's presence on Os'jen'thana. He would have attacked them, thus condemning himself and the clan to die. Was that what Alda Magor wanted her son to realise? That it had been his father's darkness that had doomed their people? That he had been wrong in following the Dark Side too? Well. From what he knew of the man's history he had never given much thought on the differences between dark and light. He had made his own rules, always, and his sole directives had been knowledge and survival.   
  
And what were Jacen and Jaina doing here? Their presence had come as a shock. If he had reached this past through the memories of Kell and Waroon, how had they come to be here? He remembered the voice that had spoken gently to him when his spirit had merged with that of Lyve Waroon, both soothing and terrible. Soothing, because it was so beautiful, and terrible, because Khameir had known exactly whose voice that had been. And he did not trust that man an inch. No matter what. Then why are you here? he asked himself then, bitterly. Why had he accepted this mission at all? Because it had seemed right, somehow. What if he had been manipulated even back then? Again he shook his head.   
  
"Are you having difficulties?" an unfamiliar voice asked then, and he looked at the Twi'lek female who had been assigned to guard him while the rest of the Jedi discussed what to question him about.   
  
Khameir shook his head. "No difficulties," he explained. "Doubts, I would rather say."   
  
"Are you regretting your choice? That you surrendered?" she pressed him, sounding curious.   
  
He gave her a mild smile. "No. Should I?"   
  
The Twi'lek leaned back in her chair and looked at him in silence for some time. Then she gave a tiny shake of her head in a very human gesture. "I hope not. I heard you say these people are harmless. And yet they managed to twist your own mind to serve their ends. How does that go together?"   
  
"Would it surprise you if I told you that the woman who did that to me became my wife? That she chose me as champion for her people and took me as her mate later on? She is not evil, never was. She merely has a different view on life than we do." He shuddered at the fierceness of Lyve's emotional response. It was frightening to experience the ferocity of his feelings, the utter commitment he felt toward his wife and his people. It was raw and brutal, not at all what Khameir was used to. "Her view is much simpler than ours," he continued softly.   
  
"Barbaric," the woman was quick to add. Her expression had turned very stern. "To have you kill your comrades -"   
  
"They were bent on destroying her people. What would you have had her do? Sit by quietly and watch as her clan was being slaughtered? The same as you plan to do now?"   
  
"We have no wish to harm anyone. We are here to investigate," she corrected him curtly, her forehead creasing into a frown. "There have been complaints. Rumours."   
  
"Do not get me wrong," Khameir replied wryly. "I am grateful that you came. I fear that else the traders and hunters might have taken so-called justice in their own hands."   
  
The Twi'lek's eyes narrowed. "They have been attacked."   
  
"For a reason."   
  
"Which was?"   
  
"The traders cheated the clan, the hunters molested them. They are looking down on what they call primitives, brutes, sorcerers. They do not understand the value of life."   
  
"They are hunters," the Jedi Knight reminded him wryly.   
  
"Indeed." For a moment Khameir let Lyve's own memories flash before his inner eye at the mention of the hunters. He saw his son - Lyve's son, whose deadly grace made him part of the wilderness of the swamps as he gave chase - run down a swift-footed equine that had lost its way on the moor and kill it with breath-taking ease. And suddenly a voice was in his head, Lyve's voice, rough and deep, that said, as if to himself, There is no grace in killing, no beauty to death. Khameir felt his mind go blank at that. He was right! Force, he was so right! And this revelation confirmed that his own decision to surrender was still valid. Violence was the wrong way. He had to convince them in a different way to spare his people.   
"What will they do with him?" Jaina asked, seated on the same tree trunk she had occupied previously alongside Jacen. This time, though, it was Klatoun who shared her perch above the running water.   
  
He shrugged. "Question him, I suppose." he threw a glance at the three hunters who had followed the Jedi to the ships. "What do you think they are talking about?" he asked softly.   
  
Jaina looked up quickly, then extended her senses, seeking to overhear the three men's conversation. "…weak fools," she heard the seeming leader say angrily. "These Jedi will only admonish us to not encroach on those savages' hunting grounds, tell us to leave them alone, ruin our business. I say we take matters into our own hands," he growled.   
  
"You're really good at that," Klatoun told her then, very suddenly, and broke her concentration. Jaina gave him an angry frown, then craned her neck to keep an eye on the hunters as they slowly retreated toward the barracks that marked this hunting franchise's major settlement. "Your master must be very adept at teaching," he continued, and finally Jaina acknowledged him, saw the curiosity in his eyes.   
  
"That she is," she replied briskly. "One of the greatest Jedi I know. She is a great diplomat too," she added sweetly, "but unfortunately the art of diplomacy is lost on me. So, nerf-brain, why don't you make yourself useful and fetch Jacen? I believe we are going to get our own adventure," she added grimly, and nodded huts and shacks of the hunting franchise. More men were milling about them now, and some carried weapons in their hands. Klatoun followed her gaze and arched his brows.   
  
"What in Force's name are they doing?" he wondered aloud.   
  
"Next time listen instead of ogling me," Jaina snapped and rose from her perch. "Come! We need to hurry!"   
  
"Jaina!" he called after her, "What is going on?" His long legs put him next to her moments later and he put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop. "If there's anything useful you've overheard you should go contact Master La'ruus," he told her earnestly.   
  
Jaina nodded in acquiescence, but said. "Then go and tell him that these hunters will attack the clan to sort this out. They won't wait on the Jedi's judgement. Tell them, and have Waroon lead you to his village. Jacen and I will scout the area. Hurry!" And with those words she left him, calling for her brother.   
  
Jacen, who had been speaking to a few other Padawan came running over to meet her and she hurriedly explained what was going on. He merely nodded, then quickly flashed his lightsaber at her to show that he was armed. Jaina slapped her forehead hard, and shook her head. Her own sabre was still lying in the small cabin they shared aboard one of the ships. Incredible, how easy it was to play blind passenger on a Jedi mission. No one had questioned them. Yet. But Jaina had no illusions that her warning would merit the older Jedi's closer scrutiny of the siblings' origins and teachers. No time to sort that out now. They needed to leave as soon as possible. Perhaps they could even warn the Jen in time and Alda Magor could lead them to safety, buy them time. Hurtling up the ramp of the Star Tide, Jaina was too preoccupied with the mission ahead to notice the subtle changes in the mood that permeated the ship. And then someone grabbed her arm brutally, and she was being dragged along by a sinister looking Jedi Knight she did not know, into a conference room where Noci La'ruus, Tron Wyse and a number of other senior members of the team were waiting for her. A moment later Jacen was hustled inside too, accompanied by a grim-faced Klatoun Arden. The twins shared a look of despair, but then Jacen stepped forward, squaring his shoulders, and addressed the small assembly earnestly.   
  
"I could imagine you have some questions for us," he said, "first of all concerning our masters." he nodded at Jaina, who flashed him a quick smile. "Our masters are Leia Organa Solo, Luke Skywalker and Anakin Skywalker. We have had other teachers over time, but those are the ones who have taught us everything about the Force we know."   
  
"Neither name is familiar," Master La'ruus countered, "and I have taken the liberty to check on your names. You are not on the passenger list. Anywhere. How do you explain that?"   
  
"They could be spies," the Jedi Knight who had escorted Jaina suggested from where he stood at the door. "Sith spies."   
  
Jacen mouthed an 'I-told-you-so' at his sister, but she wasn't even looking at him. Instead her large brown eyes were turned on the Jedi Masters. "I know this must sound strange to you," she assured them, "but we are no spies. We are no Dark Jedi either."   
  
"Prove it," Noci La'ruus told her bluntly. "Why are you here?"   
  
"A boy," she tried, "He led us here. His name is Liyuma."   
  
"And who is this Liyuma?"   
  
She hesitated, and Jacen understood her dilemma. She could hardly tell them that Liyuma would once grow up to become the Jedi Order's most annoying enemy. And the most dangerous. On the other hand, it was worth a try to make them see what their interference might spark. Before his sister could answer Jacen hurried to speak. "Forgive us, masters, but this is not easily explained. We embarked on a mission to uncover a conspiracy located on Bakura, but that mission was foiled by an enemy ploy. We landed here on this desolate world instead. This boy, Liyuma, thought we were Jedi and thought us to be safe with you. Which was why he led us to you."   
  
"This does not explain why you did not speak before us to explain yourselves earlier. You have been with us for a few days now, keeping your secrets, trying to blend in. I find your tale hard to believe, and your eyes tell me that you lie, or withhold the truth. Why don't you just be honest with us?" Master La'ruus asked mildly enough. "Klatoun claimed that you, young lady, believe that the hunters will be taking matters into their own hands and go after the clan. What makes you think so?"   
  
"A vision," she answered desperately. "A vision of the future. They will destroy the clan and unwittingly sow the seeds for the Jedi Order's destruction. There will be only one survivor, and he will swear to avenge his people and fight you for all his life."   
  
"One man? I do not believe that is a threat we can take seriously," the Jedi Knight standing beside the door offered sarcastically.   
  
"Don't underestimate him," Jacen injected then, joining Jaina's side. "He is more powerful than you can know, and he is not bound by the rules of civilisation. His deeds will doom the Order, if you do not prevent it."   
  
"I see that you have shared that vision," La'ruus suggested dryly. "How extraordinary. Still, your story is hardly convincing. No. We will investigate this matter closely. We will question Lord Waroon, question you, and decide."   
  
"At least have your men keep an eye on the hunters and make sure they go nowhere near the clan," Jacen asked miserably. "They must not be destroyed. They are only living their lives, they mean no harm. No matter who Lyve Waroon once was, he is not that man any longer. He has changed. For good. Try to see beyond what you know of the Sith. Please. I beg you."   
  
"Your masters, I assume, are Sith, then?" Tron Wyse demanded then, and Jacen felt his face flush with anger.   
  
"If your really want to know the truth then yes, Anakin Skywalker was Dark Lord of the Sith, the last, and he is our grand-father. Does that satisfy you? You know nothing of the future!" he continued to rail. "But we do! Destroy the Jen and suffer the consequences, if you are too blind and foolish to figure them out now!"   
  
"Jacen," Jaina urged him then, shaking her head. "Are you mad?"   
  
"Mad? Mad? You bet I'm mad! They only see what they want to see, and that's a Sith Lord, a former Sith Lord, whom they've declared to be evil and a threat to their mission. They don't even know why they're here, what they are supposed to do! Look at them!" he all but screamed. "They are sitting there discussing instead of protecting the clan from those profiteering marauders that have taken possession of the Jen's home planet! That is the crime here, not Lyve Waroon's past! That the Jedi do not care!" He heaved a deep breath. "Kell was right. There is no dark or light, only selfishness and selflessness. He sacrificed his life to help us see it. I say we prepare to do the same." He saw the fear in her eyes, the utter denial of his suggestion, but what was he to say? What was he to do? These Jedi were so stubborn! And they would not listen! They would not even believe the truth! Yet if they let them investigate, let them take their time, the Jen would be lost no matter what. "They died, all of them," he whispered softly, his gaze softening as he met his sister's eyes. "Do you want that massacre to be laid at your feet, because we were unable to prevent it? Even if we cannot change the past, we can make the effort. That is what he wants us to do. To prove ourselves as guardians. "   
  
She gave a mute nod, then went forward to take his hand. "You are right. We fight from day to day. Is not that what Mother always says?"   
  
"She was referring to politics," he reminded her with a grin.   
  
"Makes no difference," she shrugged lightly. "We'll have to manage either way."   
  
"This is all very lovely," La'ruus said then, his tone dry. "All those hints at sacrifice, massacres. Cute, indeed. You certainly mean what you say. If there is any truth to your tale we cannot ascertain here, it appears. Therefore you will be put under arrest until this more immediate crisis is resolved. We will continue this conversation at a later point of time. For now, I believe we should busy ourselves with questioning Lyve Waroon. Perhaps he, at least, has something useful to offer. Ikur," he addressed the knight positioned beside the door, "I want you to speak to those hunters and keep an eye on them. Tell them they are not to investigate on their own. We will handle this."   
  
"As you wish, Master La'ruus," Ikur replied smoothly, then left.   
  
Once he was gone the Jedi Master turned to face the astonished twins. "You see, my young friends, we do listen to some of what you have to say. And perhaps you should witness our questioning our friend Lyve too. I am curious to see how he reacts to your presence."   
His Twi'lek guard bounded to her feet the moment the lock clicked open and Noci La'ruus entered along with a few of his comrades. To Khameir's surprise there were also three Padawan present, among them Jacen and Jaina. The third youth he did not know, of course, but the twins mustered him strangely, and his heart cried out to them, urging them to recognise their cousin. There was a flicker of recognition in Jaina's mind, then wonder. Jacen was a bit slower to respond, but then they looked at each other and turned questioning glances back at him. Suppressing a grin, Khameir focused his attention back on the Jedi. Noci had been watching the silent exchange that had gone on between the Sith Lord and the twins and he was frowning now.   
  
"Do you know each other?" he asked.   
  
Khameir shook his head. "No. I have never seen them before." Well, technically that was even true. Lyve Waroon had never met them in his life-time.   
  
"The Cor'dan is his wife, the one who bewitched him," the Twi'lek reported suddenly, and Noci's gaze turned stern.   
  
"Is that so? And you do not, by any chance, have a son named Liyuma?"   
  
Khameir saw Jaina blush at that and checked his response quickly. Obviously Jaina had mentioned that name, and if he - "I have a son, yes, but his name is Roj Kell," he answered then, scolding himself for not having thought of that simple response at once. that was not even a lie. Liyuma had become Roj Kell on his fifth birthday, his Naming Day. "and Alda Magor is my wife, that is true."   
  
"Who, then, is now acting as spiritual leader of the clan? You claimed your wife no longer holds that post," the Jedi Master pressed on. Khameir kept silent. "Very well. These youths claim that the hunting franchises will seek to destroy the clan themselves, that we should take the clan's side and defend them. Do you share that view?"   
  
"I do not want them harmed," Khameir replied. "They are not evil. Not at all."   
  
"Yet the hunters claim you attacked them, that there are witches and wizards among the clan who threaten them."   
  
"There are no sorcerers among the clan. There is only the Cor'dan. His magic is harmless, compared to the power the Jedi command." He heard Jacen give an incredulous laugh at that and saw Jaina's eyes bulged in disbelief. Damn! Could they not be a little more in control of their emotions? He knew very well that that was not entirely true. "It is true that my son was involved in some of these confrontations," he continued then. "He does not understand why the hunters do what they do. He has no concept of the rules that define a civilised society."   
  
"Then the failure of teaching him those is yours, is it not?" Noci suggested.   
  
"Hardly. On Os'jen'thana the Jen have lived their own lives. They follow different rules. There are no conflicts that extend beyond the aggrieved parties. And if a conflict cannot be settled peacefully the Cor'dan is asked to mediate."   
  
"Then why has that Cor'dan not tried to mediate between the clan and the hunters?"   
  
A well-founded question. Unfortunately it had been answered already. Because he had no concept of how to deal with them. They did not understand him and he could not cope with their aggressions against him and his people. It was his father's failure, in a small measure, but once initiated as Cor'dan, his son had forgone all guidance his parents might offer, sacrificing more than his life to bind himself to his office. Khameir did not understand all of it and he suspected that Lyve had understood only little more than he did. Fact was that there were no rules for the Cor'dan, as both Kell and Grandfather had proven time and time again.   
  
Khameir was conscious of the others' eyes on him, but what was he to say? He briefly closed his eyes, then shook his head. "I am not responsible for the Cor'dan's actions. He is answerable only to himself. Whatever his reasons, I cannot judge his actions."   
  
He caught Jacen glaring at him and guiltily ducked his head. Of course he could judge his actions. And condemn them. The power of the Cor'dan relied on balance, and that balance also lay in those opposing the warrior-priest in his endeavours. The reason for Kell's games, one of them, had been exactly that.   
  
"Then, as I see it, we should settle the hunters' grievances with this Cor'dan," Noci said at last, finding that he was not getting anywhere with this conversation. "In fact, if you could tell us where - "   
  
The door opened in a whoosh and in came a frantic looking Padawan. "Masters! Knight Ikur has been attacked by the employees of the hunting franchise! They are moving out! You must come at once!"   
  
La'ruus was shocked. "Was he injured?"   
  
"Yes! Please, I think they are planning something stupid!"   
  
"Like wiping out my people," Lyve Waroon growled and rose from his seat. Khameir was barely able to control the Sith Lord's spirit. Dark power hissed and spat at the edges of his mind, assaulting his reason, demanding entrance into his heart. But he refused them, knowing that he needed to remain calm.   
  
"You stay here!" Noci snapped at him, then motioned for the Twi'lek to resume her guard duties. "Defy me in this," he continued, a warning directed at the Sith Lord, "and all your efforts will have been for naught. I could almost believe that what you say is true, almost. But I cannot trust you yet."   
  
For a moment their eyes met and Khameir could see regret in the other man's eyes. Lyve and Noci had been friends, once. He nodded his assent then, but his heart tightened with worry. "Protect them," was all he said, and then the Jedi left once more.   
Jacen and Jaina, left under lock and key in their cabin aboard the Star Tide, both felt grim. True, the three of them had managed to convince Noci La'ruus that there might indeed some truth to their words, but what if the Jedi were too late? And, furthermore, what if they were forced to fight the hunting franchise to protect the Jen? If their directive from Coruscant had been to act in defence of the hunting franchises themselves, then Master La'ruus was would be in trouble if he now took the accused party's side. To Jacen and Jaina, who had been brought up to set their own judgement above what other - culturally or socially biased - people might call justice, the course of action was clear. Protect the Jen and thus prevent a genocide. And yet, both felt that they had not accomplished all they could have on their mission.   
  
"We failed," Jacen sighed, voicing their misgivings aloud. And he felt that mostly that failure was his fault. He had been intimidated by Khameir's handling of his own interrogation, astonished at how easily his young cousin found the right words, the right arguments, to bring his point across. Of course, Jacen told himself, La'ruus had already been infected by the twin's defence of the Jen, but he also knew that he himself had reacted far too emotional. He had to learn to remain calmer. Looking over at his sister he found her apparently deep in thought. "What's up?" he asked, sensing that something was bothering her.   
  
She frowned at him. "You know, I have a feeling that we are being manipulated into something we don't understand. Why this charade? Why did he send us here at all? To prove our maturity? Somehow I doubt that."   
  
"But that's what he always did," her brother reminded her. "He let others measure their darkness against his, until they either understood their own limits or else succumbed to their own evil deeds."   
  
"Are we evil then? Is what we are trying evil?"   
  
He shook his head. "No way. We are trying to save lives. And we've been shown our limits quite clearly, don't you agree?" he added wryly. "And Khameir was so good!" he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "What are we doing wrong? What?"   
  
"We don't accept failure," Jaina whispered suddenly, and her voice was to full of sadness that Jacen found himself hurtling across the room to stand before her, concern radiating off him like heat waves.   
  
"Jaina, what - "   
  
"They could not prevent the killing," she told him then, so very quiet, "Cant you feel it?"   
  
Jacen froze. he had been so preoccupied with analysing their short-comings that he had completely screened out the currents of the Force to be able to focus on his own thoughts. But now he felt what Jaina had sensed much earlier. It was terrible. Sharp flashes of despair, fleeting hope, anger and fear wove a black web of suffering that settled heavily on their minds. "My stars," the young Jedi breathed. "What is going on?" With a cry of anguish he threw himself at the door then, started banging on the smooth surface relentlessly. "Help!" he screamed. "Help! Let us out at once! This is an emergency!"   
  
"Shut up!" someone shouted back, and Jacen, face flushed with emotion, stood back, aghast.   
  
"Too late," he said at last and hung his head in defeat as he turned to face Jaina once more. "There is nothing we can do any more."   
  
"There is."   
  
Her soft voice seemed terribly out of place in the sea of misery he planned on drowning himself in. He gazed at her sharply, but she seemed sincere. "What can we do?"   
  
"Come. Come here," she asked. He followed her gentle order and knelt before her, clasping her hands. She met his expectant gaze earnestly, and tears were in her eyes. "Do you remember my vision when I first met Liyuma? How Kell stood by and watched the Yevetha kill their own, even though he so much wanted to prevent that slaughter he himself had initiated? The Cor'dan is not an independent entity," she continued, "he is a tool for the Force. But even if we cannot prevent the deaths of the Jen-People, we can ease their souls. I watched him do the same with the Yevetha. Will you trust me in this?"   
  
His throat constricted by fear and sorrow Jacen simply nodded. He could sense her through the special bond they shared, which made each an extension of the other, and he watched Jaina's awareness edge cautiously toward the black strands of anguish that held the two Jedi fast. There was only peace in her mind and a desire to help, to soothe the pain and grief of the dying and injured, to be there for them in their final moments, to lead them toward death with a gentle hand. Jacen remembered then what Grandfather had once told them about the belief of the Jen-People, that their Naming ceremony bound the worlds of the spirits and the living together, that they believed that life and death were one. Jacen realised how difficult it was to fully commit to such a belief, and he knew for certain that Roj Kell, the last Cor'dan of the Jen-People, had managed. He had never been afraid to die. And so Jacen reached out himself, banishing all thoughts of dying from his mind, trying to become a reassuring presence, that could take all the terror, all the agony within itself, to ease the burden of the faltering lives of children, of men and women, who died for no reason at all. There truly was none to justify their deaths. There never was, with an end so violent. No excuses.   
  
He did not know for how long they remained so still, their minds focused only on the flow of the Force, until it was as pure as it had been before the slaughter had begun. But when the door to their cabin was unlocked he jerked back and realised he had been holding Jaina all the time, just as she held him. The twins shared a sad smile, then simultaneously turned their heads to look at the newcomer. It was Klatoun, and the young man was incredibly pale.   
  
"Master La'ruus wants to see you," he told them hoarsely. "Please follow me."   
  
It took an effort for them to rise, their muscles protested after having been locked in a single position for so long, but then they stumbled out of the small cabin and out into the corridor. Klatoun was waiting. "What happened?" Jacen asked, even though he knew exactly what had occurred. But he wanted Klatoun to say it.   
  
As expected the young Jedi hesitated, then averted his gaze, shame flooding his very presence. "We were too late. The hunters had already found the clan's village. They killed - they killed everyone, even though we tried to stop them. But we could not kill them too, we had orders - " he stopped. "I am sorry. You were right. I should not have betrayed you, I should have helped you instead."   
  
"Thank you for that thought, late as it may come," Jaina assured him and lightly put a hand on his shoulder. "Take us to Master La'ruus."   
  
"He's in the bridge conference room with the others," Klatoun informed them as they rounded a corner. "We'll be leaving for Coruscant soon."   
  
"Mission accomplished, huh?" Jacen commented sarcastically, then guiltily ducked his head when Jaina glared at him. "Sorry. I should not have said that."   
  
"Indeed." Suddenly her eyes widened. "Oh no! Khameir!" The twins shared another terrified glance. "Hurry!" they called in unison and Klatoun, though bewildered, began jogging ahead.   
  
They reached the bridge at a dead run and stumbled into the conference room out of breath. There was Noci La'ruus, looking as pale as Klatoun had, Tron Wyse, whose long neck was bent with sorrow, and a number of others, whose names Jacen did not know. They were all watching Lyve Waroon, who was seated as far away from the Jedi as was possible. He spared a brief glance for the newcomers, then returned his attention to the assembly.   
  
"I believe my request is justified," he said, "and you would be wise not to refuse me. In fact, I am making this easy for you. I am a Sith Lord, you know that. There's a penalty for that, I am sure."   
  
"Listen, Lyve, we made a terrible, horrible mistake," Noci tried then. "The assailants will be brought to justice. I have called ahead to request reinforcements, Republic troops, to arrest these men."   
  
"Too late. You were not able to prevent this massacre," Lyve cut him short brutally. "I will not grant you leave to excuse that failure by effecting my pardon. I will not ease your conscience by accepting that offer. You will have to live with that guilt, I fear, and realise that one should listen first, then act. Act from the heart, I might add. You know that what you have done was wrong, and you will have to come to terms with the fact that no amount of well-meant deeds will eradicate your guilt. You let them kill innocent people, you did not heed my warning, despite my obvious good intentions. For Force's sake, Noci! I surrendered to you! You had what you wanted! And still you neglected to tell these fart-brains that the chase was being called off!"   
  
"Our intentions, too, were good," Tron Wyse tried, but Lyve merely laughed. It was a terrible laugh, and to Jacen and Jaina, who knew whose mind was behind what appeared to be Lyve Waroon, felt terribly sorry for their cousin's pain. He was still so very young, and he was now forced to shoulder so great a responsibility.   
  
The Sith Lord rose from his seat then, a determined expression on his face. "The past cannot be altered," he told them. "But we have tried our best to change your hearts. I hope we have succeeded. And when you once face my son I pray that what you have learned today will help you make him find his own light again. Be wise and listen to what he has to say. For if you do not, I can assure you that you are doomed."   
  
"Your son!" Noci exclaimed, astonished. "Then he is - "   
  
"Cor'dan, yes," Lyve sighed. "And now, I would ask you, Noci, to perform that last service for me. I would like to die up in the cave that my people called the Cave of Wisdom. I will see my family again up there. One last wish. Let these two go peacefully. They have done well today, and I believe my son would be proud of them too." He winked at the twins, then started walking toward the door, where he stopped briefly to whisper, "I'll see you on the other side." Then was gone.   
  
Evening had fallen outside, Jacen noticed, when they said their farewells to Klatoun. The youth seemed flustered and grief-stricken, but Jacen hoped that he would overcome that sadness and grow through it. The twins trudged aimlessly toward of the forest, both thinking of their cousin. Khameir's decision had been harsh, they knew, but he had wanted to drive his point even deeper into the Jedi's conscience. There were no excuses for failure. Only the acceptance of one's own limits and the will to overcome them.   
  
Suddenly Jacen found Jaina's hand on his arm and looked up. A boy stood there, his face all too familiar. Jacen fought down an urge to blurt out an apology, but Jaina seemingly knew no such restrictions. She went forward to kneel before the boy and embrace him. "I am sorry," she murmured. "I truly am. We did what we could. I hope it was enough."   
  
Liyuma did not answer, but he carefully wrapped his slim arms around her shoulders and hugged her back. Then he disengaged from the young woman and beckoned for the twins to follow him into the forest. It was a long and difficult track through the swampy undergrowth, but Jacen felt that they could trust their guide implicitly. Only once did he motion for them to leave the overgrown path and take shelter behind a sweet-smelling growth of bushes. The trio watched in silence as Noci La'ruus passed them on his way back to the ships. The Jedi Master's head was bent low and he appeared to have been crying.   
  
Jacen felt tears well up in his eyes too, and suddenly Jaina was there, her arms wrapped tightly about him, her shoulders heaving with grief. "Is he truly dead?" Jacen asked softly, directing his eyes at Liyuma, who was watching them, as silent as ever. "He is not dead, is he?"   
  
At last the boy shook his head, then walked on, leading the way. Jacen and Jaina followed quietly, reassured, and with renewed vigour they hiked up into the mountains, where they knew a cave was waiting for them. When they had reached it at last Liyuma went ahead again and they stepped after him, into another time.   
Khameir Sarin-Skywalker sat on the hard floor of the cave, still stunned from his adventure, and placidly endured his mother's affectionate attention as she held him in her arms, seemingly unwilling to ever let go again. Her golden eyes shone fiercely and from time to time she would direct a warning glance at the tall woman seated across from them. But Alda Magor seemed to be content where she was.   
  
"You did well," the former Cor'dan assured him then, a smile on her features. "Just like your friends."   
  
"I am glad," Khameir managed on the second go. He still did not trust himself to speak and fingered his neck gingerly, as if he could still feel the angry cut that had severed Lyve Waroon's head from his body when he had died. There was no mark, only unbroken skin.   
  
"Ah, here they come," Alda announced cheerfully and rose from her seat. A small boy flew into her waiting arms and her face was beaming when she hugged him close, and Khameir himself snuggled closer to his mother, feeling not at all ashamed. Nuron ran a hand through his thick hair tenderly, then kissed the crown of his head. "You are very brave," she told him softly. "Very brave."   
  
"Khameir!" It was Jaina, who slipped down the sloping floor to join them, followed closely by her brother. The twins' faces shone with relief as they crouched down beside their aunt and cousin, and both reached out to squeeze his hands. "You were incredible!" Jaina continued, her voice pitched high with excitement. "You showed them!"   
  
"Yes," he answered softly, "I did." He turned questioning blue eye son Alda Magor and her son. "Did I show him too? What you wanted him to see?"   
  
The tall woman nodded at him, then resumed her seat once more. Liyuma dropped down beside her, his face expressionless.   
  
"I am sorry I could not prevent their deaths, though," Khameir continued. "Perhaps I should have tried harder."   
  
Alda Magor's smile deepened. "You could not have prevented the past, you have already realised that. And I did not want you to change it either. I knew we would die, long before the Jedi came."   
  
Khameir gazed at the dark-haired woman, wanting to understand. There was such sadness about her … His glance shifted to the boy hovering at her side protectively, so fragile and innocent. It took some courage to ask, but he did nevertheless, "If you knew that your clan would die, why didn't you prevent it?"   
  
"You saw what happened," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "It made no difference. The Jedi had condemned us already."   
  
"Because of your husband," he concluded.   
  
She gave a nod. "Yes." Pale green eyes looked at him openly, the pain in them undisguised. "It was a brave thing you did," she declared then, "And Lyve would have admired you for your courage. He chose another path, one true to his nature."   
  
"Violence," Khameir breathed. "He attacked them."   
  
"They hurt him," Alda Magor corrected the boy. "He had to flee. And by the time he returned to our clan's village the slaughter was already underway. He found me dying and went berserk. He killed every enemy he could reach while all around him our people fell. He was helpless to prevent it, even then, despite his power. Do you see?" she sighed. "It made no difference. Either way."   
  
"You knew that all along," he said then, finally understanding. The horror of that knowledge hit him hard, and he could see how it affected the Solo twins, and his mother. Khameir took another deep breath, nodding at Liyuma. "What about your son?" he asked. "He came back to slaughter the settlers in retribution for your clan's destruction. Was that wise?"   
  
"He was hurting," Alda countered wearily. "And he knew there was no excuse for that deed. He has never known excuses."   
  
"Is that why he has come back?" Jaina asked then. "To atone for his crimes?"   
  
All eyes were on the little boy at Alda Magor's side, but the child did not respond, keeping silent even then. The sorceress followed their gaze, then gave a short laugh when she understood. "My son is long gone!" she exclaimed, seemingly amused by their assumption. "This," she gestured at the wraith by her side, "is a farewell gift. Triggered by a Jedi's presence on N'zoth." Her pale eyes focused on Khameir again. "A tiny part of what he was. To guide a new generation, when the time was right. Or didn't you wonder why he would interfere only now, if this was truly his soul spirit? He bound me too, to respond to intruders here in this cave."   
  
Khameir blushed, but did not reply. It was Jacen who summed up what they had heard so far. "Then his intention was to make contact again once he could be certain that an unbiased generation had grown up," he mused aloud. "Jaina trusted him, and I did too, in the end, despite what we knew about him. Isn't that the ultimate gesture of forgiveness?" he asked, sounding awed.   
  
"The most effective bond," Alda Magor replied steadily. She threw a wistful glance at the wraith, then continued, "Liyuma was the essence of what it means to be the Heart of Darkness, even before he became Cor'dan. To have his innate power stifled by his new role made him grow bitter and resentful in some ways, though he never lost the wonder he felt at life's creations. He could not understand, at first, why he was being restricted. Later, when he had studied the cruelty of numerous societies at his leisure, he did understand, I believe."   
  
"No wonder he became so cynical," Jaina mumbled, but Khameir saw her brown eyes glued to the little boy in fascinated curiosity. Suddenly she looked up, studying Alda Magor intensely. "He had a friend, Hagen Dycos," she began tentatively. "I've read it in his biography on the Seeker's interface. A Jedi Master. If you say trust and friendship were the bonds to hold him …"   
  
"Hagen Dycos was a remarkable man," Alda Magor answered not without pride. "I believe he reminded my son of what he had once been, and he felt safe with him. If Hagen had wanted it, he could have made him surrender to the Jedi easily. But that is what friendship is all about, isn't it? My son knew he could trust this Jedi unconditionally. And in return for that trust Hagen never even thought of betraying him."   
  
"Yet I could feel that he resented his role as Cor'dan even when he had decided to die on Laa'kuan," Jaina injected then. "He showed me what it was like for him to watch the Yevetha slaughter each other. He wanted to do something different, but he saw no other way to combine his need for power with ensuring a safe future for the fledgling nations."   
  
Alda Magor nodded solemnly. "He wanted to live on, Jaina Solo. he did not want to die, even though that was the price to be paid, and he knew it. He wanted to be free of his duties. But he could never be free. And that too, he did know."   
  
"Why?" Jacen asked bluntly. "Why could he not be free once he had given over his duties to Grandfather?"   
  
"The Cor'dan knows no rules. And my son had grown up to embrace darkness, which made it impossible for him to be released into true life once more," she explained. "You see, when a man or woman is consigned to become Cor'dan they give up their life, their being, to serve. The Cor'dan's power relies on balance, but Liyuma's strength in communicating with the living and dead, with the Force, as you call it, was too great. In such cases the Cor'dan's power is curbed, part of it merged with the Force, to lessen the risks to those the Cor'dan is set to guide. Had he been allowed to reclaim that power - " she shook her head in revulsion. "You know of some of his deeds," she continued, her tone harder. "He was merciless and ruthless, just as he was compassionate and willing to sacrifice. His knowledge was exceptional and would not have allowed him to accept any point of view other than his won. He would have become a tyrant. That is why he had to die. His limits had been set by his sacrifice and he accepted that." Cocking her head to the side she addressed Khameir once more and the young Jedi shied back from the intensity of her gaze, fearing what would come next. "When the Sith were still powerful they were protected by a guide and a guardian. The guide, a priest, was named Cor'dan, spiritual leader of the Sith. The other was guardian and defender of the people, Naghasan, who were later named Dark Lords. That is why you are here, Khameir Sarin-Skywalker. To become that guardian."   
  
"And the guide?" Jaina blurted out. "You can't tell us that Naas Deron is truly capable of ceding power to so young a warrior! he'll fight him!"   
  
Alda Magor gave her a blank look. "I fear I cannot answer that," she conceded. "All I know is that the Sith are imperilled again, and that it will fall to this young man to protect them."   
  
"The Sith?" Jain gaped.   
  
"She means us, sister. The Jedi," Jacen explained glumly. "Guess now we know that we've lost after all."   
TBC   
  



	18. Round One

  
  
They made their way down into the valley the next morning, each very silent and preoccupied with what they had witnessed the previous night. Alda Magor had vanished with the first rays of the sun, but Jaina had not been surprised to find Liyuma snuggled up to Khameir when she awoke; the boy clung to the young Sith Lord like a shadow, always silent, his pale green eyes drinking in everything. She could tell that the others were uncomfortable with his presence, and even Khameir was eyeing him suspiciously. But what were they to do? Chase him off? She was not certain whether that would work at all. So the five of them walked cautiously down the mountain, conscious of the treacherous footing the trail offered, but then Khameir veered off the track, startling the others.   
  
"Where are you going?" Aunt Nuron asked, and her voice had a tight edge to it.   
  
Her son turned to face her, his stance mirrored by Liyuma at his side. "Plawal is still down there," he explained. "I want to know what is going on. If I am to defend the Sith, I should be prepared, right?"   
  
Jaina saw worry and hurt flash across her aunt's beautiful face and Nuron's full lips tightened with disapproval. "Khameir, Plawal betrayed the Council of Naboo. That is his crime. He took what information we gave him and twisted it around to serve his own ends, and those of his masters, whoever they might be. I came here to confront him, true, but I do not want you to act rashly now. You are defender, not aggressor."   
  
"Mith'raw'noruodo would disagree," Jacen injected with a smile. "He always says that sometimes attack is the best defence."   
  
"Which was the reason for the Abernake's destruction and the invasion of the Yuuzhan Vong," Jaina reminded her brother sternly. "But I agree with Khameir. We have to know what is going on. I believe I know why Kell let us live through his people's destruction. Plawal and his cronies will be trying to discredit the Jedi and Sith along with the Council. They'll try to start a witch-hunt so they'll have free reign in discarding Yana Dar as empress."   
  
Nuron nodded, "Yes. That might be their intention." She bit her lip self-consciously, then explained, "I admit that I do not feel comfortable with taking the three of you into danger. If anything happens to you your parents will hold me responsible -" she said, addressing Jaina and Jacen, who shared an indignant look.   
  
"Aunt Nuron, we are both adults and can make our own choices," Jacen tried soothingly. "And you were prepared to take your son along. Don't you trust us the same you trust him?"   
  
The Zabrak warrior gave a helpless shrug. "I know what you mean," she confessed, "but it is far harder to co-ordinate a team of four than a team of two."   
  
"Five," Khameir corrected her gently, nodding at Liyuma. "A suggestion, Mother, if you agree. What if the two of us talk to Plawal, with Jacen and Jaina as back-up? And the boy."   
  
"The boy won't be of much help," Nuron snorted. "For all I care he could have vanished too."   
  
Khameir shrugged. "Well, he didn't, and I guess there's a reason for that."   
  
The four of them turned their heads in unison to study their silent companion. He looked so very frail, so very sad, with his pale eyes wide open with curious innocence. Jaina shuddered at the deceptive image spread out before them. They all knew what he had become. And none of them had any idea what he was now, a wraith, or a reborn soul. She heaved a tiny sigh, then went forward to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "All right," she announced, "I think it's a good idea. We'll keep an eye on you and on Liyuma, okay? Don't worry, we'll be close at hand."   
  
The three youths turned expectant gazes on the Zabrak woman standing in their midst, who finally gave a nod of approval. "Done," she said. "Khameir, I trust your judgement if you trust mine. Let me lead the way."   
  
The young Sith bowed deeply then, surprisingly, and replied solemnly, "Mother, I will follow you in whatever you choose to do. I still have much to learn and would never presume to know more than you do."   
  
"Good. Then let's get going."   
  
They went ahead, slipping along the overgrown path like ghosts, and Jaina found herself nodding in admiration. "They are great," she said. "I'm happy Uncle Luke married her. She's incredible. And so are their children."   
  
Jacen laughed at that. "You should hear yourself, sis', you sound like some old granny!"   
  
"Granny or not," she huffed, "we should not be left behind. Come!" She started down the pathway immediately, but then a small hand grasped hers and tugged firmly at it to catch her attention. With a frown she turned to face Liyuma. "What?" she asked, a little annoyed. The boy pointed into the undergrowth, then nodded. "You know another way?"   
  
"Makes sense," Jacen offered thoughtfully. "We should not come down the same trail they took, in case Plawal has his people investigate."   
  
Jaina shrugged. "Okay. Go ahead, then," she told Liyuma. "We'll follow, don't worry."   
  
He flashed her a broad smile, then took off toward the thickets that crowded the narrow pathway. They worked their way through the branches and gnarled vines with some difficulty, but Liyuma seemed unperturbed by their plight. Suddenly they found themselves in the midst of a swamp, and Jaina felt like cursing out loud when her left leg sank into the mud up to her knee. Jacen dragged her back out again, and shot a disapproving glance at their guide, who stood waiting patiently and motioned for them to join him. With a gesture he explained that he knew a safe way and that they should step into his foot-prints. From then on traversing the swamp was much easier. And soon they could hear raised voices. Liyuma gestured for them to duck low, then crept forward on his own, telling the twins with an unmistakable glance that they should stay behind. Jaina's forehead furrowed into a disapproving frown that she found mirrored on Jacen's features. And when her brother decided to follow the boy after a few moments hesitation she was not far behind. Soon they could make out Nuron and Khameir, surrounded by tough-looking men who were obviously armed, and confronted by a man who Jaina thought could only be Doctor Plawal. And Liyuma, crouched in the shadows, like a predator ready to pounce …   
  
Scrambling over she quickly put a hand on the boy's shoulder and shuddered at how tense he was. When he turned his head to look at her hatred burned in his pale green eyes. Shocked, she released him and started back even as Jacen joined them. Her brother took in the brief and wordless dispute with a disapproving glance, then strained forward to listen. But Jaina could not turn her eyes from Liyuma's hate-twisted features. What was going on here?   
  
"Are you surprised to see us?" Khameir asked, his young voice firm.   
  
Doctor Plawal seemingly took no notice of the boy. Instead he addressed Nuron. "You have been following us? How - unusual."   
  
"Is it? If you thought we would leave your unjustified claims concerning Empress Yana Dar unchallenged you are sorely mistaken. The truth is somewhat different from what you believe," she told him calmly.   
  
The scientist was unimpressed. "Perhaps you are mistaken, ma'am, have you taken that into consideration? What I have found here only confirms my view of the past events."   
  
"In what way? This is the ancient home of the Jen-People, birth-place of Roj Kell. That is all."   
  
Plawal smiled. "Is it? My employers thought that there'd be more to it, and I find myself agreeing with them. The history of this place is very interesting. Did you know that, here too, a genocide took place? The settlers were wiped out by forces unknown some time after their arrival. Intriguing, don't you think? I believe this Kell had a special taste for that sort of massacre."   
  
"They killed his people," Khameir injected then.   
  
"Revenge. Ah, I see. A noble reason for committing thousands to die, is it not?" Plawal asked sardonically. "Do you sanction such deeds, young man?"   
  
"I sanction nothing that is wrong," the Zabrak boy replied coolly. "I accept neither lies nor deceit." Stepping forward he made himself the centre of attention easily. "Your employers, no matter who they are, are trying to frame the Jedi and the Council as scapegoats for whatever they are planning with the Sith Empire. A clever way of getting rid of unwanted opposition, I agree. But cleverness will not save you."   
  
"Are you threatening me, boy?" Plawal huffed.   
  
Khameir stood back and cocked his head to the side. "Why would I, if your conscience is pure?"   
  
"Insolent child," the scientist growled. "You have no idea what you are messing with."   
  
"As if I care," the boy snorted. "Your lies will only bring harm. I do not care whether you admit to them or not, because I know you are playing a false game." He stuck out his chin. "I can see your guilt, Doctor. I am a Jedi, remember? There is nothing you can hide from me."   
  
"Do you agree, Master Sarin-Skywalker?" Plawal addressed Nuron again.   
  
But the tall woman only shook her head. "You will have to deal with my son, I fear. This is his assignment."   
  
Plawal gave a brief laugh. "Very cute. But you overestimate yourselves. Did you really think you could come here to this desolate planet and challenge me without any evidence to show?"   
  
"Evidence? You do not seem to be too fond of evidence, Doctor Plawal. You did not even wait for the complete translation of the message we found on N'zoth," Nuron snarled. "You only believed what you wanted to believe."   
  
"Then tell me, Jedi Master, what it is I have misunderstood!" Plawal shouted. "Lord Kell killed thousands of Yevetha to strengthen his legacy! He sacrificed their lives so his followers could grow in power! If that is not selfish I don't know what is! And your father-in-law is no better! He founded the Council of Naboo under the mantle of justice, but what he was really after was power!"   
  
Again it was Khameir who answered, "You let yourself be blinded by belief and your little world of science - "   
  
"How dare you!" Plawal raged, but Khameir continued right over him.   
  
"You have missed the point completely. Sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the all to survive. No matter how much that sacrifice might hurt, no matter how cruel that sacrifice might seem. You refuse to see more than black and white, all you see is evil. How limited your vision is, how regrettably crippled your perception. Is not your employer's goal the selfish one? Is it not you who attempts to bring down a noble order for your own gain? What you want is power, what you want is revenge. But I can see the truth of your words, and what I see are lies! Deny it, if you dare. Deny it, here and now, in this place, and suffer the consequences!"   
  
Jaina stiffened with dread when she saw Plawal go rigid with anger. Any moment now he would explode, she was sure, secure in his power, secure in being protected from the two Jedi by his guards, who were even now hefting their weapons. And then Jaina realised that this was exactly what Khameir was counting on. That Plawal would indeed feel so secure that he would at last confess his secrets and shed some light on the mystery that surrounded his employers. Holding her breath, Jaina leaned forward, straining to hear the confession that had to come, longing to know the truth at last. At her side Jacen was concentrating as hard on the scene before them as she was. And Liyuma - she felt her heart stop for a fraction of a second. Liyuma was gone!   
  
And just then Plawal began to speak. His tone was harsh, his face twisted into a snarl. "You have no idea of the proceedings of this galaxy," he grated out. "You live in your own righteous world and know nothing of people's hardships. You only see the," his tone turned sarcastic, "big picture." Suddenly his features became very calm indeed. "Yes, young man, you are right. Sometimes one has to make a sacrifice to benefit the all. Without the Council and without the Jedi and the Sith sorcerers this galaxy would be a much better place. A place of opportunity, not stifled by ridiculous views on justice and judgement. Yana Dar should never have let the Yuuzhan Vong survive. She should never have allied herself openly with the Sith. For those mistakes she will pay. Those," he added with a cold smile, "are the true rules of survival. Lord Kell was always fond of those, was he not? A pity he did not survive himself. Or else I would gladly have told him just that to the face. It would have been a pleasure. And now, I fear I must part with your not very charming company. Let me say that I do not regret that sacrifice in the least."   
  
Jaina saw Khameir exhale deeply and give a slow nod. "Thank you," he said, his voice very soft. "Thank you."   
  
"What for?" Plawal snorted.   
  
"For the truth. You cannot imagine what a relief that is, to hear the truth out of your mouth," the youth replied coldly. "Come," he added gently and put a hand on his mother's forearm. Together, they took a step back, away from Plawal, who was gazing at them in bewilderment, before he turned toward his men, his face red with anger.   
  
"What are you waiting for?" he screamed. "Kill them at once!"   
  
But the men did not move. One of them, a red-haired giant, shook his head. "Doctor, I can't see what harm they can do - "   
  
But Plawal would not listen. "Kill them, you fool!"; he roared. "Kill them now!"   
  
"What in Sith's hells is he trying to accomplish?" Jacen whispered under his breath, sounding bewildered.   
  
Jaina gave her brother a defeated glance. "In this place, at this point in time, that confession seals his fate," she explained and gestured at the spot where Liyuma had been only a few moments before. "Justice will be served. Remember the Jen?" She saw his face pale, but by then it was already too late.   
  
Liyuma rushed onto the clearing howling like a banshee. His slim body barrelled into Plawal's bulk like a bullet and bore the Doctor to the ground with astonishing ease. What happened then was more than Jaina could bear. Turning her head away she closed her eyes and tried to shut down her hearing, but she could not mute the voice of the Force. It was the roar of an angry beast, ferocious and merciless. "Oh Jacen," she sighed, "why does it have to be like this?" She felt her brother's arms lock about her shoulders in a gentle gesture. It was then that she began to cry.   
"Hold. It is enough," Khameir told the boy quietly as he lay his hand on his slender shoulder. With a growl Liyuma spun around and made as if to attack the young Zabrak before he checked himself again and subsided. He glanced at the armed men surrounding them with a baleful eye, but none of them looked as if they were keen on challenging him. Not after what he had done to Plawal. Blood was dripping down the boy's chin and the wild gleam in his pale eyes gave him the appearance of some feral beast. He was trembling with rage, and only gradually did he calm down again as Khameir held him close in a tight embrace meant to comfort. "Hush," Khameir whispered, not quite certain whether the child could understand him or not. "Hush, little one, it is all right."   
  
"What was that?" the red-haired man, Frek Nessel, he thought his mother had said he was called, exclaimed. "What is that?" he demanded, staring at the boy. Hands trembling, he finally managed to bring his blaster rifle to bear on Liyuma's head.   
  
Khameir gazed up at the man, whose face was fixed in a rigid mask of shock and fear, and felt the small boy in his arms, the reassuring warmth of his presence and the utter calm of his mind. "It was the truth that killed him," the youth explained at last. "There are those who accept a confession and turn to governments or councils to speak judgement, and those who act according to their own ideas of justice." He cast a thoughtful glance at Liyuma's cold eyes. "And then there are those who have no concept of justice or judgement. Those who do not know the word 'fair' or 'just'. They see the heart of a truth and act on it." Gently, he wiped the blood off the boy's chin. "But why did you kill him?" he asked in a soft voice. "Was he truly worthy of your anger?"   
  
The clearing was very silent as the small assembly awaited the little boy's reply. He did not speak, but his lips drew back in a slow smile that sent a shiver down Khameir's spine. Leaning forward Liyuma took the young Zabrak's shoulder and drew him closer, as if to whisper in his ear. Khameir's heart was thumping with fear and anticipation as he waited, but there was only a sigh, before the boy released him and sat back on his haunches, a look of utter loss filling his pale green eyes. Very suddenly he whirled away and fled into the undergrowth. Khameir's heart sank when several of Plawal's guards opened fire on the child.   
  
Then his mother firmly hauled him upright and faced the mercenaries down. "You would truly murder a small boy?" she demanded, bristling with fury.   
  
"Wouldn't he do the same, in our place?" Frek Nessel shot back in a growl. "No one will believe you, once you return to Coruscant, Master Sarin-Skywalker. You have lost the war. Your sorcerers will be taken down and finished. We will not be ruled by your magic any longer. Let's go," he ordered, waving at his companions. "We are leaving."   
  
The moment they were out of sight Jacen and Jaina left their hiding place and barrelled across the clearing to join Khameir and Nuron. "Are you two all right?" Jaina blurted out, her brown eyes large with fear.   
  
"'We will not be ruled by your magic any longer'," Jacen repeated mockingly, frowning. "Is the man an imbecile? There is no magic, only the Force!"   
  
"Controlled by a select few, or so it seems," Nuron explained quietly. "I understand his concerns, trust me on that. And we should be leaving too. We're heading back to Naboo. As for evidence," she raised her right hand and opened her palm to reveal a voice-recorder she had had hidden there, "I believe we have enough."   
  
But Khameir stood his ground. "Mother, you cannot truly mean that. If everyone would think like that there would be anarchy. There need to be leaders, leaders one can trust. I agree that the past has shown that there are very few of those, but I believe the time has come to show the peoples that the Jedi are not Sith waiting to wrack havoc on this galaxy, but guardians and guides."   
  
"Guardians who do not have the power and influence to fight a war single-handedly, as some seem to expect of us? Guides whose voice is not heard in the halls of government?" Nuron shook her head. "We have a long way to go before we can accomplish that high goal of yours, my son. Not in my life-time, I believe."   
  
He hesitated. But then, cautiously, he reached out to take her hand. "Do you trust me?" he asked, willing her to say yes.   
  
She gazed at him for a long time, before she squeezed his palm and slipped her hand out of his hold. "I have utmost trust in your commitment, Khameir," she conceded at last. "But, as you have already admitted yourself, you have a lot to learn. Idealism is all very well, but one has to be realistic too, or else become what Palpatine was, or Kell. Don't let your heart die so soon," she pleaded softly. "I would not want that, for your sake." And with those words she turned on her heels and strode away.   
  
When he found Jacen and Jaina standing by sheepishly, Khameir waved them away. "Go ahead, I'll join you in a moment," he sighed. "I think I need to be alone for a while."   
  
When they were gone, it came to him very suddenly that he was only fourteen years old, a teenager. How arrogant was he to presume that he knew more of a guardian's duties than his mother? Was he not incredibly short-sighted and narrow-minded in what he believed to be the truth? Tears began streaming down his face as he stumbled toward the trail that would lead him down into the swamps. But he had risked so much back on Os'jen'thana! He had thought that he'd understood what it meant to be a guardian, that one would be free of obligations, free to follow the sole directive of protecting lives! And yet, his mother was right. There was so much to take into consideration. Too much. Before his inner eye he could see how those restrictions stifled the Council's range of operations immensely, how precarious the balance was that Naboo sought to keep throughout the galaxy. It were not rash warriors that were needed, but diplomats. Hanging his head he dropped to his knees and saw his own face reflected in the dreary surface of a small pond. There was silence all around, a thick silence filled with many possibilities. Where would he go from here on? He could not forget what he had seen and done, could not leave the memories behind. Neither could his cousins, that he knew for sure. But his mother had not experienced what the three of them had seen on Os'jen'thana. She had not seen how the fall of the Jedi had begun.   
  
"Help me," he whispered at the boy looking back at him, blue eyes rimmed with tears. "You know the answer, just listen to your heart, like Father always tells you to." But his heart was silent. He started, when another face was mirrored beside his reflection. It was Liyuma. Turning his head, Khameir gazed at the child in silence, trying to understand what was wanted of him. Was he to be guide or guardian? Or both? With a tentative smile he reached out to brush his fingers over the boy's cheek and again was astonished at how real he felt. "What is it you want, hmm?" he asked very softly, not really expecting an answer. And again Liyuma kept his silence. Instead of replying he went forward to hug the young warrior tightly, a reassuring gesture as much as a plea for protection. "You're afraid, aren't you," Khameir whispered, stunned by that revelation. "But why? Afraid of what? Or for what? Your mother said that the Sith are imperilled again, that we have to prevent their being destroyed. Did she mean the Sith Empire? Or the Jedi?" Liyuma drew back a bit and held up his hand, curled his fingers against his palm until only one was showing. "One? You mean that Jedi and Sith are one?" The boy gave a mute nod. Khameir drew a deep breath. His grand-father had told him that Roj Kell had once claimed just that, that there was no difference. But there was and had been ever since the end of the war against Palpatine. While the Jedi had remained on Coruscant the Sith had been forced into the Outer Rim. Under Chi'in's leadership they had grown into guardians, more so than Father had back then, Khameir reflected guiltily. Only the trials in the Unknown Regions had unlocked the Jedi Master's full potential, as he had admitted himself some time ago. What was the key then? To understand the rules of civilisation by mastering the wild beast of one's own soul? Not quite, he thought. To master one's soul meant to master the Heart of Darkness. "My stars," the young Sith breathed. "You want me to stand up against Deron, don't you? If I am to be Defender I will have to defend on the outside and on the inside." He sat back on his haunches, stunned. Liyuma regarded him curiously and cocked his head to the side as if in silent question. With a helpless shrug Khameir answered. "All right. I guess you won't leave me alone unless I do what you want me to do. Am I right? So, what is going to happen that's so important to you?"   
It was a strange feeling to be back in the Senate Chamber of Coruscant, Anakin found. And, even though they had been working together for some years now, standing there next to Mon Mothma and Bred Antham made the setting even more disturbing. They had been enemies once, and he could never forget that, just as they would never forget. Or the Senators that were watching them intently from their seats in the large arena. For a moment he held his companions' eyes, then took a step back, in sync with Bred Antham, to leave the floor to the more seasoned diplomat Mon Mothma. The former rebel leader and president took her assigned place with a calm grace that harkened back from her own days of power. It had the desired effect, as Anakin noticed with some relief. Instantly, every eye was turned on the tall woman standing in the midst of the chamber, leaving Anakin free reign to get a feel for the mood permeating the grand assembly.   
  
"Gentlebeings of the New Republic," Mon Mothma began, her deep voice composed and soothing. "You have been briefed in depth on today's topic, and I would like to add a few words to the report you were given to study. Clearly, the report shows that there could not have been any connection between Empress Yana Dar, Lord Kell and the Yuuzhan Vong. Historic research proves that Lord Kell would never have co-operated with the Yuuzhan Vong, and that Yana Dar's sole goal was to overcome her captors by pretending to be their willing tool. As for the genocide that took place on N'zoth, we cannot bring the instigator of that crime to justice. He died decades ago. If you have studied the report in depth you will find that it remains unclear whether or not Lord Kell can be held fully responsible for that deed."   
  
She kept a short silence to let her words take the desired effect and Anakin could feel that many of the Senators seemed to be becoming thoughtful. He knew, as did his companions, that the media had distributed reports of supposed conspiracies involving Mahel Sivaraya, Jacen and Jaina Solo as well as Princess Luzaya Dan, who was still missing without a trace. While he was not concerned for the twins or the princess, the former Dark Lord was well aware of the doubts these false reports had sown within the minds of many beings throughout the New Republic. They had to be asking themselves whether perhaps their government was right after all, as opposed to the Council of Naboo, when it came to accepting the new Sith Empire.   
  
As expected the New Republic's President, Borsk Fey'lya, was the first to reply. "We understand your concerns, Madam," he assured Mon Mothma evenly. "What the Council fears is a loss of its integrity and reputation. I also understand that it was the Council of Naboo that granted the assistance requested by the Preena Institute of Archaeology and Bioresearch and its representative, Doctor Anteres Plawal. It was he who studied the remains of the Yevetha on N'zoth and the one who voiced his misgivings concerning the Yuuzhan Vong and the Sith Empire. We have to ask ourselves, regardless to the Council's undisputed good intentions, whether the Sith Empire does not remain a danger to peace. And the Jedi, for that matter. I have here a recording that evidently shows your grand-children, Lord Skywalker, in the action of killing a Yuuzhan Vong assailant, who is said to have kidnapped Princess Luzaya Dan. And yet, both Jacen and Jaina Solo remain silent on that deed. How can that be explained?"   
  
"A very simple answer to a simple question," Anakin replied coolly. "The recording is a fake. Perhaps you would care to let the Senate share this piece of supposed evidence?"   
  
While he waited for Fey'lya to have an assistant prepare the holo-reader, he again went through his arguments. The Yuuzhan Vong shown, claimed to be Mahel Sivaraya, was not Mahel at all. He had seen the young warrior in person, after all. And the reason for Jaina and Jacen's silence was that they were not available. They had vanished along with Alowyn Kattaran, a NRI agent and former Imperial agent. That had been confirmed by Captain Teer Shikay, commander of the Star Destroyer Freedom. The Captain had been very concerned by their disappearance. But Anakin knew the twins to be safe. No need to tell anyone but his family and friends, though. Let their enemies wonder and worry for a while longer. He cast a casual glance over the assembly, and briefly acknowledged his daughter's presence. Leia was remarkably calm, even though her father knew how much the current events affected her. She was a politician and could see the dangers of what they both knew to happen better than he ever would. If they were to rely only on Naas Deron in this… He was suddenly very glad that Al'than'erudo had asked Luke to go to Byss to keep an eye on the Cor'dan. Then the recording flashed into existence in the midst of the chamber, showing the brief battle between Jacen, Jaina and the supposed Mahel Sivaraya. There were a few gasps throughout the crowd and outraged cries of protest.   
  
Then Fey'lya spoke once more, "Mahel Sivaraya is suspected to have kidnapped Princess Luzaya Dan. The NRI confirms that his motivation for that is to be found in the past. Mahel Sivaraya is, in fact, Lomin Domain Carr, the son of the late Yuuzhan Vong Warmaster Marayl Domain Carr." He continued over the rising buzz of thousands of voices, "We also know from a reliable source that it was Naas Deron, currently acting as Cor'dan on Byss, who chose Mahel Sivaraya to be Princess Luzaya Dan's guardian on her journey to Naboo and beyond, on a supposed diplomatic mission. Perhaps, though, it was Empress Yana Dar's fear that her daughter would be caught in the midst of exactly the power struggle she now seems to be finding herself in. That her position is far from secure was proven by the attacks on her husband's life and the princess' kidnapping. I greatly fear, and the majority of the Senate agrees with me, that the Sith will truly rule should she fall. And everything Naas Deron has done so far points toward a coup on his part. What do you say to that, Lord Skywalker? Do you know anything about that? And, furthermore, does the Council have a hand in this?"   
  
Anakin barked a laugh of surprise at that. Of all possible accusations, he had not expected the President to be quite so blunt in his choice of words. Fighting down a disbelieving smile he answered smoothly, waving Mon Mothma into silence. He had to be careful, he knew, not to reveal too much, but Borsk Fey'lya truly was going too far. "Esteemed Assembly, first let me assure you that the Yuuzhan Vong warrior shown in the recording is not Mahel Sivaraya, or Lomin Domain Carr. I have met the young man in person. He bears no scars at all. And let me assure you that I know his identity, and that I have not been fooled by a decoy or any other deception. What is more, my grand-children vanished along with an NRI agent, Alowyn Kattaran, and have not yet reported back. Perhaps you could explain to me later what interest the NRI might have in two innocent youths. While it is true that the Sith Empire is going through a crisis, I protest your accusations concerning the Cor'dan. He is sworn to protect the people of the Empire, all of them. That is his primary duty."   
  
"You do not seem overly concerned for the safety of your grand-children," Fey'lya mused aloud, and squinted in Leia's direction. "And their mother apparently shares your calm. So I assume you know them to be safe. As for Alowyn Kattaran, yes, I am aware of his disappearance. I am also aware of the fact that he was one of Franzis Sarreti's agents before and during the war against the Yuuzhan Vong. I suggest that you know exactly where your grand-children are, and that place, I dare say, is Byss itself."   
  
Anakin smiled at that. "You assume too much, President Fey'lya, and I suggest you contact Empress Yana Dar herself before you get lost in unfounded theories of mad conspiracies."   
  
The Bothan gave him a toothy smile in return. "Rest assured, Lord Skywalker, that I had planned to do just that. I have already announced to Byss that I will be expecting the Empress to join this discussion. The technicalities have been taken care of, I have just been told. So we might as well go ahead."   
  
Anakin joined his companions as they waited for the connection to be established. Then, at last, a familiar face appeared, familiar to Anakin, that was, but the Senators did not know the chief assistant and confidante of Franzis Sarreti. Jiliha n'Averone was a beauty and she was sharp, that Anakin knew. He did not like her in particular and he suspected that she was one of the conspirators that were seeking to bring Yana down. She caught his eye briefly, then averted her gaze to look at Borsk Fey'lya to nod at him in a polite gesture. "I am terribly sorry for this inconvenience," she began, "but neither the Empress nor her Royal Consort are prepared to speak to this assembly."   
  
"And who are you?" Fey'lya demanded in an impatient growl.   
  
She gave a graceful nod. "My name is Jiliha n'Averone. For the duration of Franzis Sarreti's recovery I am responsible for the Advisory Council."   
  
"And the reason for their refusal to speak to us?" the Bothan huffed, ruffling his fur in indignation.   
  
"The Empress is not pleased by the lack of co-operation on the New Republic's part in her efforts to recover her daughter. I was certain Ambassador Beryd had already informed you on the Empress' stance concerning that point," she added, bewildered. "Hasn't she said anything?"   
  
"No, that she has not," Fey'lya replied icily. "And concerning co-operation with the Sith Empire, we do indeed conduct our own investigations concerning Princess Luzaya Dan."   
  
"The Empress will be pleased to hear that," Jiliha answered smoothly and gave a pretty nod.   
  
"How is the Royal Consort, by the way? Is he recovering swiftly?" Anakin cut in, sensing that this conversation was getting out of hand and in the entirely wrong direction.   
  
But Jiliha was no fool. There was a tiny fraction of a second where her eyes grew cold and hard, but the next instant she was all helpfulness, saying, "He is reasonably well, Lord Skywalker. I am terribly sorry that I cannot help you further in this matter."   
  
He was unimpressed. "But you can tell us a bit about the mood on Byss, how the people are taking the princess' disappearance."   
  
She gave him a sweet smile and shot back, "I would have thought that Naas Deron is keeping you posted on the proceedings on Byss."   
  
"Alas, he is not available. Neither are Yana Dar or Franzis Sarreti, which I find rather strange."   
  
Jiliha did not even miss a beat as she replied, "The Cor'dan is a secretive man and I am in no position to question him."   
  
A fleeting smile crossed the former Dark Lord's lips and he accepted her words with a slight nod. "Then what of the mood on Byss? How does the populace react to the assassination attempts and the princess' disappearance? Surely you do keep an eye on the crowd?"   
  
"Certainly, Lord Skywalker. But I would strongly advise you to consult Ambassador Beryd on this. I truly cannot tell you more," she concluded, pleading in her voice.   
  
Anakin could sense that her tone startled a number of the senators and even Mon Mothma and Bred Antham, but it could not fool him. He had seen the transmission that had captured the final moments of the Temple of Life on Byss, he knew that she was lying. But so far he had no clue as to who her accomplices were here in the New Republic. They had to move so carefully, if they did not want to risk the New Republic's falling apart. And Jiliha was an excellent strategist, who was giving nothing away. Almost. So, she was not in a position to question Naas Deron? Did that mean that her henchmen had not yet managed to track the warrior-priest down? Probably. Even Andarack was confident that Deron was fully capable of handling what troops were stationed on Byss, and Anakin did not doubt that. The question was, what Deron was prepared to sacrifice for his purposes.   
  
"We will contact Ambassador Beryd in due time," Fey'lya cut in, also somewhat disturbed. "Please give our regards to Empress Yana Dar and assure her of our sincere support in her search for the princess."   
  
"Thank you, President Fey'lya," Jiliha answered graciously and the connection was broken.   
  
"Well, that was not very fruitful," the Bothan began, once the holoimage had dissolved. "And I am not certain how that was to assist us in our search for the truth. Lord Skywalker, Mon Mothma and General Antham, I thank you for your efforts, but how was that to help us? I suppose we can all agree on the fact that Roj Kell was a perverse lunatic," he flashed his teeth in a humourless grin when a number of senators started laughing foolishly, then continued, "but I want to know what is going on. I suggest the Council's puts the focal point of its next report on that particular task. I would speak to you in private for a moment, this session is adjourned for the duration of our talks. I estimate two standard hours. Thank you."   
  
Shrugging at the questioning glance Mon Mothma shot him, Anakin made his way over to the exit to leave. Bred Antham and the former president followed close behind. Once outside in the hallway the trio was very silent. Not only the conversation with Jiliha n'Averone had been fruitless, this entire session had brought no new insights either. But then that had not been their primary goal.   
  
"They'll believe we have no clue," Bred Antham sighed. Then he grinned, an uncharacteristic sight on his usually so earnest face.   
  
"Indeed," Mon Motha agreed, "I believe we have convinced them somewhat. But Lord Skywalker is known for his playing games. They will not be satisfied so easily. And now we have forced their hand. I wonder -"   
  
"We are here," Anakin interrupted her abruptly. Indeed. The president's office was well guarded, and the former Cor'dan did not want to risk being overheard. "Good evening," he told the aide manning the reception desk politely, "we are being expected."   
  
"Yes, Lord Skywalker, the president is waiting for you. Through that door, please," she added helpfully.   
  
Anakin favoured her with a small smile, then went ahead, the others on his heels. Still, no matter what he had expected, he had not expected Ambassador Niki Beryd's presence. The willowy-slender woman whirled around to face the newcomers when they entered and it was clear that she was nervous. Beside her the Bothan president ruffled his fur in obvious discomfort. "Ambassador Beryd has extremely urgent news," he began without preamble. "Apparently things on Byss stand worse than we have anticipated. And now I understand n'Averone's reluctance to tell us anything at all. She must have feared being overheard."   
  
"What is going on?" Mon Mothma demanded.   
  
Niki Beryd took a deep breath. "A state of emergency. I came as fast as I could. In the wake of her daughter's disappearance the empress has suspended all civil rights. Mahel Sivaraya, the princess' bodyguard, is first suspect as her kidnapper and she is cracking down hard on the Yuuzhan Vong. Citizens are being seized and imprisoned for no reason at all and she has even turned against the Cor'dan! Imperial troops were reported to have destroyed the Temple of Rebirth. I cannot say for certain what is going on, but Jiliha n'Averone came to me and urged me to leave the planet immediately. I came as fast as I could, to report to you."   
  
"What else can you tell us?" Bred Antham urged her on, but Anakin took a seat in one of the available chairs, very much aware of all eyes on him when he moved. Calmly, he mused, "You do know that I can tell when you are lying, do you?"   
  
"Lord Skywalker, I do not lie, I only tell you what I have heard and seen," Niki Beryd replied, sounding just a little bit flustered. And he even believed her. She was not smart enough to compete with Jiliha, who had had the advantage of having had the best of mentors when it came to political intrigue.   
  
"I know," he told her pleasantly. "Please forgive my presumption."   
  
She merely nodded at him, then turned toward Borsk Fey'lya. "What are we going to do? We cannot leave her free reign in suppressing her people!"   
  
"Naas Deron will not let her terrorise the populace," Bred Antham assured them confidently. "He is Cor'dan."   
  
"He is not very present at the time," Niki Beryd snorted. "There is no sign of him."   
  
"Very well," Borks Fey'lya growled, "it comes as no surprise to me that Master Deron does not interfere. He is probably behind this mess. As for Her Majesty Yana Dar, we will sever all ties to the Empire. At once. I will be sending an official proclamation by morning Corsucant time. Lord Skywalker, I suppose the Council does not consider recalling its agents from Byss?"   
  
"No way."   
  
"Just as I thought. Then, please, be so good as to keep us posted. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a lot to do yet."   
  
"You really want to sever all diplomatic ties to the Sith Empire?" Mon Mothma snapped, her tone incredibly sharp. "Now of all times?"   
  
"There was never so good an opportunity as this one," Borsk Fey'lya replied coldly. "And now, please leave. All three of you."   
  
Anakin waved Mon Mothma into silence when she opened her mouth to protest. Rising elegantly, he threw one last glance at Niki Beryd, then left. "I am fed up with your secrets, Lord Skywalker," Mon Mothma hissed as she hurried to catch up with him. "What was that supposed to be back there?"   
  
"You can count on it that what Beryd just told us will be all over the media channels by morning. The accusations toward Mahel, the suppression of innocents, everything," he snarled back. "This round goes to the enemy."   
"You told me to trust him!" Fists drumming impotently on the Yuuzhan Vong's armoured chest, Luzaya was crying openly, her pretty face screwed into a grimace, her cheeks reddened with emotion and her hair dishevelled.   
  
And still Mahel thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. But her accusation stung. They had just heard the news of what crimes were being laid at Yana Dar's feet, and Luzaya was beside herself with anger over her mother's decisions that apparently included the incarceration of a number of Yuuzhan Vong citizens. And what angered her even more was the fact that Naas Deron did not even bother to add his voice to the conflict. To her, as the Cor'dan's student, that had to seem the ultimate betrayal of his duties toward her people. In fact, she had told Mahel in no uncertain terms that she would consider her apprenticeship ended should Deron not act properly, as was his duty.   
  
"Your Highness," he tried for the tenth or so time, "this must be a misunderstanding."   
  
"That is the understatement of the millennium," Mara Jade, watching Luzaya's outburst from her seat in the ship's lounge, grumbled under breath. "Never trust a Sith," she added. "I should know."   
  
Beside her the Corellian Jix was scowling darkly at Mahel. "Deron isn't a fool," he explained, frowning. "He would not have let this happen if he'd had a choice."   
  
"A choice?" Luzaya cried, "He is Cor'dan! Of course he had no choice but to let it happen! But he should have told me! I could have done something!"   
  
"And what would that have been?" Mara asked then, her tone soothing. She rose from her seat and walked over to take the younger woman in her arms gently. "Child, they sent you away for a reason, your mother and Deron both. Even if she did not know what would happen, he did. You are right about that."   
  
"That does not mean I must approve," the princess sobbed. "This makes no sense!" Burying her face in Mara's shirt she shook her head. "It makes no sense."   
  
Patting the young woman's back somewhat helplessly, Mara Jade gazed at Mahel over the top of the princess' head. "Your mother has her duties, and she tries to fulfil them as best as she can. Sometimes that means being unfair."   
  
"I know that," Luzaya snarled, disengaging from Jade. Her pale blue eyes were blazing coldly. "I am no child." Raising her head in an open challenge, she added. "And I am heiress to the Empress' throne, on a diplomatic mission to the New Republic."   
  
Mara Jade shook her head determinedly. "Girl, I suggested Coruscant, I know, but for hiding. You aren't safe in the open, Mahel is right about that."   
  
"I will hide no longer," the princess stated firmly. "I have Mahel, I have you, and Jix. Between the three of you I should be reasonably safe, no?"   
  
"This is our mission," Jix injected quietly, "and you're just tagging along, princess." He said it affectionately, taking the rebuke out of his words, but Mahel could tell that Luzaya still recoiled at the harshness of his reply. And he felt sorry for her. The Corellian, though, continued unfazed. "Listen. We do not even know who's enemy in the New Republic. And we sure don't want to lose you, girl." He sought reassurance from his wife, but Mara seemed frozen in place. Mahel frowned at her and felt himself tense involuntarily. What was it she was sensing? Some message sent to her through the Force?   
  
But at last she said, "Let's talk to Ja'han'mandana."   
  
"They are using your name to further their plans, they say you kidnapped the princess" Jix said then, addressing Mahel. "Any idea why? Apart from who your father was?"   
  
"Isn't that enough?" Mahel asked lightly. "No, seriously, I do not know what they seek to accomplish with this, except for having an excuse for suppressing my people."   
  
"My mother will never stand for it," Luzaya snapped sharply. "And she would never distrust the Cor'dan's decision."   
  
"Then perhaps it isn't her making the decisions," Jix suggested softly.   
  
The princess went very pale. Suddenly her legs would not support her any longer and she sat heavily down onto the crash couch set into the rec room. Mahel was by her side at once, radiating concern. "What is it?"   
  
She looked up at him, her usually clear blue eyes dark and wild. He had seen her like this only once before. Recoiling from her expression, he said, "The nightmare you had?"   
  
"Yes," she confessed, hanging her head to avoid having to look at any of them.   
  
They left her her privacy, and none of them spoke, until she was ready to share her secret with them. She had not even told Mahel back then, he recalled, and something made his heart ache at that, as if she had betrayed his trust by her refusal to confide in him earlier. They had been so close that night, closer than ever before and after. And that revelation hurt. It truly did. Standing back, he stood stiffly by her side, ready for what she had to say.   
  
At last she had gathered enough courage to speak, and when she did her voice was very high, close to tears, a child's voice, a frightened child's voice. "I dreamed," she began, choking on unshed tears, "that I was coming back home from somewhere. I was all alone," she continued, "and I do not mean physically. There were people. Guards. But they seemed so far away …" Shaking her head, she gathered herself anew. "I came to the throne room, and I could sense that something was wrong. It was all dark, and I knew something terrible had happened. I almost stumbled over a body once I reached the stairs that led up to the throne, and when I looked down I found that it was Deron. I did not feel anything at seeing him dead. It seemed right, somehow, but also saddening." There was another silence, and the princess looked up at them, tears brimming her eyes, wetness glistening on her cheeks, her eyes pleading for understanding. "The throne was turning back to face me, and I saw - " she hesitated again. "My father." Anxiously, almost desperate, she addressed Jix. "You do not believe that it is him ordering those terrible things done, do you?"   
  
The Corellian did not reply at first, but then asked. "What about your mother? He always follows her lead, doesn't he?"   
  
"You don't understand!" Luzaya sobbed, burying her face in her hands helplessly. "He was not the man I grew up with, in that dream, not the man I think of as my father! He was dark, cruel and without emotion. He told me it amazed him that I had forgiven him, when I had never managed to forgive Naas Deron. And I do not know why! What has he done, what will he do that will require my forgiving him? That will be so grave that my forgiving his deeds would amaze my own father? What?" Her eyes widened in undisguised terror. "What if my mother-" She did not finish, instead turned her head away.   
  
Mahel felt his throat catch his breath as he realised what she was fearing. And he wondered hard whether this nightmare was not a manifestation of her growing power as future Cor'dan. A vision of sorts.   
  
"Let's not over-react," Mara Jade warned then. "We need more information before we can decide. If anyone has that it will be the Emperor. Luzaya," she added, more gently, "we will contact him when you are ready, okay?"   
  
"Okay," the young woman murmured, her voice barely audible. "Just leave me for a while. I need to be alone. Just a bit."   
  
Mahel hesitated, but Wrenga Jixton made it clear in no uncertain terms that he would not leave him alone with the grieving princess. Following the Corellian and Mara Jade into the cockpit, Mahel was very thoughtful. And then, when the silence became too much for him to bear, he said, "I believe I know why they are doing what they are doing." He gave Jix a hard glance. "And I dearly hope your Emperor will confirm this."   
TBC 


	19. Round Two

"Master Skywalker, a pleasure to have you here," Ja'han'mandana welcomed his guest cordially, and Luke smiled in response, taken in by the emperor's good mood. Seated in a high-backed chair in his office the Chiss seemed alert and vibrant, as always. His eye implants were gleaming like rainbow gems, and Luke could tell that the Empress' gift had been received very well. "Take a seat, both of you," Ja'han'mandana continued, excluding General Kalo'wyn, who took up position next to the door instantly. "Who is your friend?"

"Your Majesty, may I present to you Bray La, formerly customs officer on Weyla, now resident of Nirauan," Luke offered, and shot his companion a small smile. He could tell that the Falleen was nervous, no matter how hard he fought to keep a calm composure. And even though the Chiss emperor was not Force-sensitive, he caught up on his guest's mood as easily as if he were. 

Folding his hands on the top of his desk he said, "Be at ease, Bray La, no one will harm you here. General Kalo'wyn has already informed me of you extensive knowledge concerning Domain Carr and your brilliant plan of neutralising the threat it poses. But please, be seated, both of you."

They followed his request and sat themselves down in front of the desk, with Bray La sitting at the very edge of his chair. "Your Majesty, do you have news from Naboo?" Luke asked then, hoping to hear of the latest developments concerning Yana Dar and her daughter's disappearance. 

"There is indeed something you should see. I have had my aide record the transmission. It is off Coruscant Daily, and was broadcast only a couple of hours ago. Have a look." He gestured toward the wall to his left, and Luke nodded at the young aide who moved to prepare the presentation. "I have an inkling of what will follow this, but see for yourselves."

Alarmed, Luke turned his chair to get a better view of the holo-recording, with Bray La following his example somewhat reluctantly. He felt uncomfortable in the emperor's presence that much was clear, and he felt insecure in these strange surroundings, which were not his world at all. "Everything is well," Luke whispered softly and put a hand on his companion's shoulder

"Are you sure?" Bray La retorted weakly. He turned his head around carefully, a sorrowful expression on his face. "I have a bad feeling about this, you know?"

Luke flashed him a reassuring grin and said, "Don't worry. We're safe for now. As for later- we'll see."

"Silence, please," Ja'han'mandana admonished them promptly. "This is actually very interesting."

The Jedi Master refocused his attention on the recording and frowned. It was indeed a report off Coruscant Daily. He did not know the reporter, a round-bellied human male of less than average height and unusual perspiration, but then, he was more interested in what he had to say. The reporter's face was flushed an unhealthy red and he seemed to be standing in front of the Senate building on Coruscant. "This is Turve Glat with a special report on the deteriorating relations between the New Republic and the Sith Empire," he began breathlessly. "According to an inside source the empress has ceased all communications with Coruscant, despite the fact that her daughter is still presumably missing in Republic territory. Rumours have it that this supposed kidnapping has been a ruse fabricated by the empress and the Council of Naboo to excuse the means Yana Dar is said to prepare to strengthen her position. There are rumours of suspending civil rights and of prison camps used to intern political dissents. Of course, none of those have been confirmed, but experts claim that it is only a matter of time until that happens. The NRI reportedly is preparing a dossier on exactly those rumours and the truth of them. The J.A.F. Media Group will keep you posted. This is Turve Glat, on Coruscant Daily." 

"They blame the Council?" Luke asked once the recording had stopped. He turned his head to face Ja'han'mandana, who was watching him intently, as if there was something else he knew that he waited for Luke to say aloud. "If so, then this has been long planned and begun even before Doctor Anteres Plawal asked us for assistance in his investigation of the demise of the Yevetha."

"They are trying to take both the Empress and the Council down, obviously," the emperor confirmed. "My agents in New Republic space, though, have uncovered additional information that could shed some light on the proceedings. We will speak to them shortly. In the mean-time, let me fill you in on the most recent report they gave me. Follow me, please," he added, then rose from his seat. Luke instantly bounded out of his chair, with Bray La not far behind. The two of them shared an uneasy glance, then joined the emperor as he made his way from the office, with General Kalo'wyn falling in step behind him as guard. "To illustrate that report, let me show you something," Ja'han'mandana continued, and waited until one of the servants that stood all along the hallway had opened one of the doors. Beyond lay an extensive chamber, the throne room, Luke realised as they passed the dais on which was perched the simple chair that served the Chiss emperor as seat of office. "General, will you be so good?" the emperor asked and waited for the general to step up to what looked like a comm console. Only then did Ja'han'mandana sit down on the throne. "Come over here, don't be shy," he invited his guests, who joined him on the dais somewhat reluctantly. "General?"

"Yes, Majesty, of course." Kalo'wyn worked the console deftly and suddenly a part of the wall in front of him moved aside to reveal a large screen. A moment later a familiar sight appeared on the blank space and lit it up with a labyrinth of yellow and black. "You know the labyrinth on Laa'kuan, Master Skywalker," the general begun. "We have been keeping an eye on it ever since the war against the invading Yuuzhan Vong ended. Technically, the planet is a neutral zone, used both by the Star Alliance as a place of worship and as barometer to measure whatever it is he measures by the Cor'dan himself. We know that because he has told us that, and because we know it from his predecessor, your father, who used to visit this place from time to time, contrary to Deron. As you know, the labyrinth depicts the galaxy and some of the parts beyond. Each planet is represented by a glow-stone. The dimmer the stone, the more danger, the more violence prevails on that world. You can see that the cluster representing the core worlds of the Sith Empire, especially Byss, are teeming with violence. The outlying regions, though, seem neutral, though not as bright as, say, the Star People's territories. So we know that indeed a crisis has befallen Byss, and that Naas Deron is unable to handle it, or is still trying to gain control over that crisis. But that is not the most interesting point about this recording, a live-feed, by the way. Can you spot the unusual, Master Skywalker?"

Stepping closer, Luke cocked his head to the side and began to study the image more closely, but at the same time a growing felling of anxiety urged him to look at the centre of the labyrinth, where decades ago Roj Kell's mortal remains had found their last resting place. Back then the Yuuzhan Vong had buried the guardian of their past in a grand ceremony. A burial mound had been erected to hold the battered body of the slain Cor'dan and Luke could see nothing unusual about the tomb itself. Yet he felt uncomfortably reminded of the message that had been written on the walls of that cave on N'zoth. He remembered that Roj Kell had claimed that what had been taken could not be returned, that what he had meant was that he could not survive as anything less than Cor'dan. What if he had survived as something different? The Jedi Master shook his head in disbelief. No, that could not be. Twenty years had passed since he had died and nothing hinted at his continued existence. Yet, if he had truly survived ...

"Look closer, " Ja'han'mandana whispered at him, the sudden sound making Luke jump, despite himself. "One can almost read the scripture left on the walls of the labyrinth now," the emperor continued. "And if we zoom in even more -" he waited for Kalo'wyn to comply " - you can see that the ground surrounding the tomb has been disturbed only recently. We know for certain that the community of the Star People does not use the centre of the labyrinth as place of worship any longer, not since Lord Kell died there. So, who has visited that grave? An interesting question, don't you think? I thought that perhaps, since you will be travelling into that territory anyway, you could investigate further on Laa'kuan. It is in our all interest to know exactly what is going on there, don't you think?" he added coolly.

Luke felt a shudder run down his back. "Yes, certainly," he answered at last. "Then you will allow me to search for Warrahm Domain Carr and enlist her help?"

"Mith'raw'noruodo suggested this. He and Lord Skywalker seem very keen on getting the Chiss involved. Something to do with future power plays, I assume. Not that I mind. General, what about that line to Coruscant?"

"The encrypt is still running, Majesty," the soldier replied calmly. "It is only a matter of time."

Luke saw Ja'han'mandana give a slow smile and felt his concern deepen.

"Isn't it always?" the emperor asked. "There is more, Master Skywalker. Naas Deron himself has contacted me personally. No, general, you do not know about that. It happened very recently. Just before you came in." His rainbow eyes narrowed into angry slits. "Yana Dar and her Royal Consort have been imprisoned and Jiliha n'Averone has taken control. Deron finds himself unable to free the empress and Franzis Sarreti, though his reasons remain obscure. I suspect he is playing a different game."

"They are prisoners?" Luke gasped, shock registering in his brain. "Then we are too late!"

Ja'han'mandana shook his head. "No, not yet. I told you that Mith'raw'noruodo and your father have already prepared their forces. They know more than they let on and they won't tell me. This is not the worst of our problems, I think." 

He cocked his head to the side, as if expecting Luke to fill him in on the details, but the Jedi Master could only shake his head. "I fear I do not know more than you do," he confessed. "Can we speak to Deron?"

"He has gone to ground. I suggest we plan our operations without counting on him. What input he can give us, no matter how sporadically, will certainly be welcome, but we cannot rely on that. I rather think we should rely on your father's insight. I have asked Jixton to contact him and include him in our little round."

Luke nodded. "Let's hope he can shed some light on this mess."

Anakin Skywalker felt drained and old. Hell, he _was_ old. It was just a shame that now he felt it more than a year or so ago. Not a comfortable thought. Letting the door to his apartment on Coruscant slide close, he wondered whether Mon Mothma and Bred Antham felt just as drained as he did. The trio had gone their separate ways once they had come back to their quarters, each lost in thought. The message from Niki Beryd, no matter hwat lies she hid teh truth in, had hit them all hard. As hard as the hostility against the Empress that permeated the New Republic Senate. It was bad, he thought, worse than he had anticipated, worse than even the Seeker had hinted at. What had changed since he had last questioned the program? What new variables had entered the game? With a sigh he dropped down onto the single couch and started, when he saw a man standing opposite from him. Had he been too preoccupied to sense him? Were his senses becoming so dull? Anakin Skywalker frowned briefly, ascertained the man's identity and relaxed, smiling ever so slightly. "Jix," he said aloud. "I did not expect to see you here."

"Would it be bad if I told you that I did?" the Corellian replied lightly. "We gotta talk, your lordship."

"You've heard the news?" Anakin sighed, his exhaustion returning once more. "About Yana?"

"That's why we gotta talk," Jix confirmed. "Not here, though."

He moved toward the door, and Anakin rose to join him. "Why so secretive?" He did not ask where they were going. "What is wrong?"

The Corellian shrugged. "You know what. We can't really trust anyone but ourselves." He quirked a smile. "Just like the old days, eh?"

"I wish it wasn't," Anakin answered gruffly. "I wish we could live in peace for once."

"Fat chance of that happening." Jix whispered. "Come along. You'll be surprised, I grant you that."

"Oh," the former Dark Lord growled, "good."

He did not bother to keep track of their surroundings as Jix led the way through the streets of the city. He was wondering instead how this surprise visit would affect the game. If game it could be called at all. At last, though, they had reached their destination, and it was not quite what he had expected. They had entered an old hangar, and a ship was concealed within, a familiar shape. Mara Jade's ship. Taken momentarily aback, Anakin gazed at the Corellian who had once been his agent, and saw the man grin. He should have guessed that Mara would not be far, he scolded himself. "Is that your surprise?" he grumbled. "A chat with old friends?"

"Not quite that. Come on."

The two of them reached the ship's hull and Jix worked the lock to open the outer hatch. Taking the lead again he went ahead, then motioned for Skywalker to wait, until he had secured the hatch once more. Only then did he take his visitor to the central hold of the vessel. Three familiar faces greeted Anakin there. Mara Jade, of course, beautiful with her thick red hair and sparkling green eyes, her features somewhat softened by the years. She threw him a mock salute, then stepped back to allow him full view of the other two occupants of the hold. There was Luzaya Dan, sitting ramrod straight in her seat, looking uncomfortable and tense. Looming next to her was her Yuuzhan Vong bodyguard, still as a statue. 

"That is indeed a surprise," Anakin hissed. "Child!" he exclaimed then, and crossed the distance to the princess in a few strides. "You know?" he asked then, concern mingling with fear. Fear for her.

"I know," she nodded, and he thought he saw tears glisten in her eyes. "Thank you for your concern," she added formally. 

"I am your god-father," he whispered. "You can trust me."

"Can I?" she replied challengingly. "Can I truly? Did you see that damn holo-recording?"

"The one showing my grand-children slaying a Yuuzhan Vong claimed to be your bodyguard?" he asked dryly. "That accusation is easy to dissemble, I'd say," he added with a meaningful look at Mahel. "Or did you mean the one off Coruscant Daily?"

"Yes." Luzaya's pale blue eyes were burning with anger. "I thought they had betrayed me," she whispered at last, her tone fierce. "I believed my mother had betrayed her every ideal. Does this confirm my worry?"

"She was betrayed," he replied softly. "Never believe anything else. She did not mean to destroy her vision. They did it."

"What about Deron? What about him?" she demanded, suddenly angry. "He is sworn to protect the Empire. Why isn't he doing anything? You were Cor'dan, Anakin. Can you tell me what this means?" she asked, suddenly desperate.

"That he has no other choice," he explained quietly. "He had to let it happen." He refrained from adding that there was even more that the Cor'dan had no chance to prevent.

"And that is the answer?" she shook her head, then gazed up at her bodyguard. "Mahel suggested we speak to the Emperor Ja'han'mandana."

"That is why you are here," Jix added then, addressing Skywalker. "I thought it prudent to include you, since you are conveniently on planet." He threw Anakin a long look. "Luke is on Csilla. And Ja'han'mandana thinks it imperative that you are included in this discussion."

"And what about Leia?"

"You fill her in," the Corellian said dismissively. "Once we're done here. Now let's get that line to Csilla running."

Luke Skywalker stood beside the throne, anxious for the general to finally get that feed to Coruscant up. Beside him Bray La stood unmoving, perhaps awed by the proceedings, intimidated, or simply indifferent. It was hard to tell with the Falleen. The Jedi Master spared a brief glance for his companion, and smiled. Bray La had told him a bit about his relationship with Alamys Jorka, and he wondered whether the Falleen thought it would be a similar one that bound him to the man's grand-son. Well, Luke wasn't mad, was not swallowed half or more by the Dark Side, as Alamys had been. He shuddered. Failure was too easy and darkness never out of reach. A sobering thought. He thought of Yana Dar and Franzis Sarreti, of Luzaya Dan, who was somewhere out there, neither one aware of the others' fate. He dearly hoped the three of them were all right. 

"All will be well," a smooth voice said then, from his right, and Luke turned his head to nod at the emperor. There was a man who knew the true power of diplomacy and forgiveness. And it was clear to him why the Council was looking to the Chiss for help. If anyone could handle this crisis it was their emperor. Ja'han'mandana had been hurt bad in the last battle against the Yuuzhan Vong some twenty years ago. He had lost both eyes in that trial, but they had been replaced by Yuuzhan Vong implants, a gift offered by Yana Dar as reconciliation. It had to be a special bond between the two rulers, Luke thought, remembering the outrage this offer had caused among senior diplomats of the New Republic, who were quick to condemn the Empress' offer as cruel reminder of what the Chiss had suffered in the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. But Ja'han'mandana had received the gift with grace and gratitude. It was a trademark of the monarch, and proof of his intelligence and the uncanny knack he had for reading people like a holo-novel. That he was to be head of the operation had been inevitable. Anakin had to have known that the Council itself would not be able to act on its own. Another chilling thought.

"Your Majesty, the feed is online and secure," Kalo'ewyn announced at last.

"Finally," the emperor breathed. "Jixton?"

"Yeah, I'm here," came the audio reply. 

Luke saw Ja'han'mandana smile. "And you have arranged for your guests to attend this session?"

" 'Course. They're all here. Just go ahead. We can hear you."

"Very well." Pursing his lips, his rainbow eyes gleaming, Ja'han'mandana steepled his fingers in front of his face thoughtfully. "First of all, greetings to you," he began, "and let us proceed immediately. You have heard that damnable report on Coruscant Daily and the supposed break of diplomatic ties between the New Republic and the Sith Empire?" 

"Jiliha n'Averone brought that particular news to the New Republic Senate herself."

"She is bold, I have to grant her that," the emperor mused aloud. "But I have additional information, just like your son does. Let us enlighten you."

"With pleasure," came the reply.

"Good. Yana Dar and Franzis Sarreti have already been imprisoned and the Temple of Rebirth has been destroyed. Jiliha n'Averone is not without opposition, though. The Cor'dan is working against her diligently, and for now she is focussing her efforts on subduing him. Which is good for him, actually."

"How so?"

"You do not seem overly surprised to hear of the empress' plight," Ja'han'mandana suggested, then continued, "Deron is a good strategist, who had excellent teachers. And he is Cor'dan, of course. As your son has uncovered, he has played a card that will gain him victory in the end even before we knew there would be a conflict."

Luke felt somewhat taken aback. He had what? But then his father cut in, "Which would be?"

"Domain Carr," the Chiss explained. "We have reason to assume that he is counting on their opposing n'Averone."

"Domain Carr hates Yana," Anakin reasoned. "What makes you think they would support Deron?"

"Not Deron. But one of their own ..."

"Mahel Sivaraya is an outcast," the former Dark Lord interrupted him, catching the monarch's meaning as quickly as ever, and Luke was only left to gape in astonishment. He had never ever thought of that before! "They will not raise a hand to support him," Anakin concluded.

"You may misjudge their motives," the Emperor countered calmly. "Jiliha's injustice against the Yuuzhan Vong gives Domain Carr a chance to rise up as their people's saviour. Your son will make that offer to them. But we need to make certain that they also have a personal stake in this." A small smile appeared on his lips and was gone again. "Domain Carr has profited enough from our trade with the Corporate Sector and the Confederate Zone. I have a very able and experienced customs officer here, who will assist me in planning and implementing that operation. He has intimate knowledge of Domain Carr. Which reminds me – Mahel Sivaraya is with you?"

"Yes," came a young voice, rough from having been silent for some time while he had been listening. "What is your plan?"

"Send your charge to Csilla," Ja'han'mandana offered. "She will be safe here, and at the centre of things." 

Luke cringed when a young female voice cried out, "What about my parents?" Luzaya Dan seemed close to tears as she continued, "What do you mean, they have been imprisoned? Anakin! Did you know? Did you know that would happen?"

"Child, I - " Anakin tried, but Luzaya raged on, "Don't call me that! I am no child! Yuu knew! You did not see fit to tell me, none of you had that courage! I hate you!" 

"Luzaya -," Mahel tried, but she obviously would not listen, for a moment later he reported, "She's left. I should follow her -"

"You will stay," Ja'han'mandana snapped, his tone cutting through the tense atmosphere like ice. "Stay and listen. Mara, go after the princess and see to it that she does not leave the ship."

"As ordered, Majesty," Mara Jade's voice replied. There was silence for a moment.

Then Ja'han'mandana continued, "We have only one chance to weather this crisis and uncover this conspiracy. Anakin Skywalker has allowed me to head this operation and I expect every one of you to follow my orders. That includes you too, Mahel Sivaraya. You will give yourself up to the New Republic authorities."

  
"What!" Luke heard the young warrior cry out. "Why?"

"So we can offer the enemy a victory. Trust me in this. You all will have to trust me exclusively. Can you do that? Lord Skywalker?"

Luek held his breath as he waited for his father's answer, which was awfully long in coming. "I trust you, Ja'han'mandana," the former Dark Lord said at last. 

"Excellent. How about you, Master Skywalker?" the Chiss continued and turned his head to look straight at Luke. "Do you trust me?"

"I do. But I would be grateful if you could fill me in on what you two seem to know."

Ja'han'mandana gazed at him in silence for a long time. And then he told him.

"You know you cannot win this game," Franzis Saretti said calmly. He was seated on the edge o f the single bed, stroking his wife's hand while he faced his jailer down. But Jiliha seemed unimpressed. 

"You know why I have come, Franzis," she told him. "You do not have to play the martyr and I could use your input. Come on, can you rally forsake this chance to start anew? You can fashion this empire after your own wishes, without always being restrained. You can make your own vision come true. Something _she_ never dared," she added with a flick of her hand directed at Yana's still form. 

Franzis mustered a cold smile. "You truly came here believing that I would betray my wife? Perhaps you do not know me as well as you think you did."

"What do you have got to lose?" she continued, apparently determined to ignore his reasoning. "You have always stood in her shadow, never been allowed to push your reforms through the way you wanted. I can give you that, Franzis. I can give you that freedom."

"And stand against the rest of the galaxy? Do you truly think the New Republic would allow me to rule? They never trusted me. And they won't trust you either, not when they learn of what you have done." He gave her a quick, cold smile. "Not to mention the fact that you are not without opposition here on Byss either. I am certain that enough of Yana's supporters will protest your rise to power and the Yuuzhan Vong will certainly refuse to follow you." He raised his brows questioningly. "Tell me, Jiliha, do you have your bodyguards with you at all times? Do you truly believe you can escape Deron, once he decides you've caused enough harm?"

She merely smiled at him, then said, "Franzis, dear, you do not seem to realise what I can do to you to make you yield. Once your wife has been tried for treason, what do you have left? I know you. Yana is your life. Once she is gone, what reason would you have to resist me? My agents will hunt your daughter down and neutralise her, and then, what will you do? Kill me? No, Franzis, I know you better than you think. You will start anew. You will find another vision to cling to. Why not follow mine?"

Blanching, Franzis shook his head. "You are going too far, Jilha," he retorted hoarsely, fear and despair choking his voice. "Deron will never allow it. Neither will the Council."

Jiliha gave him a contemptuous look and a pitying smile. "Your threats were better when you could back them up with real action, Your Highness," she said. "And I am quite certain that Naas Deron will lose most of his supporters when they realize that he is unable to stop me. As for the New Republic, they will rejoice once Yana Dar is out of the way. They hate her. And they will do nothing to stop me."

"How are you going to justify this move?" Franzis snarled and moved to rise, but the fact that Jiliha was accompanied by three guards, who all had their weapons trained on the former assassin, prevented him from following his urge to kill her there and then. 

Jiliha laughed. "Civil unrest, of course! Please, your captivity must have affected your intellect. This is politics, it has nothing to do with justice or compassion, or any of that drivel."

"Of course not," he breathed, feeling his anger subside gradually and turn into a single flame of cold hatred. "And by putting Yana on trial – a mock-trial, to be sure – you can at least put up the illusion of following Imperial law. But perhaps you should consider that Emperor Ja'han'mandana and President Zickorey will not stand by, the way the New Republic does."

"The Chiss are bound by a treaty of allegiance and the Confederate Zone has no resources to speak of," Jiliha countered, unimpressed. "The only worthy adversary is the Council on Naboo, but Al'than'erudo will certainly have a lot of explaining to do once the New Republic officials realize that he has been keeping vital information from them." She smiled. "It's a trick you taught me, Your Highness, to use illusion and deception to divert a potential enemy's 

attention elsewhere. It worked on you well enough, don't you think?"

"Yes," Franzis admitted quietly. 

What else could he say? He had no idea what could be done to prevent Jiliha from executing her plan. And once Yana had been officially condemned to die, the new empress would be confirmed in her post and applauded for having averted a civil war within the Empire. Yana had kept too many of the proceedings within the Empire secret and too many of its laws were too obscure to be understood by outsiders to raise suspicions within especially the New Republic that things were going terribly wrong here. Their only hope were Luzaya, Mahel and Al'than'erudo. And Jiliha threatened to knock them out of the game too now. It was hopeless. On Byss their only ally was Naas Deron, but _he_ had to move cautiously too. As Cor'dan he was bound to rules more rigid than any law. 

"You have lost the war, Your Highness," Jiliha told him, satisfaction plain on her face and in her tone. "It is time for new leadership, a new era. And I certainly will push it through with more force than your dear wife ever used. You can see what she accomplished by that: internal strife, factions, disorder. A democracy," she added mockingly. "But this is an _empire_, and I mean to be empress."

"A tyrant, more likely," Franzis shot back, his anger flaring again. He had not even noticed that he had moved toward her, and he gave the guards latching on to him an owlish look, totally surprised. But Jiliha's eyes had narrowed, testimony to her fearing him still. 

"What I will do with you I am not sure yet. But, should you refuse to yield to me, I believe I have been a good enough student to be able to accomplish my goals without your advice. So you will share your wife's fate. In fact, I believe you will precede her," Jiliha added thoughtfully. "No need to take chances. Bring him," she ordered the guards harshly and turned to leave. 

Franzis felt like panicking. He had never expected to survive his wife, but in the state she was in she needed him more than ever. He could not leave her just now. Craning his neck he tried to look over the heads and shoulders of the guards pushing him toward the door, at the woman lying prone on the single bed. 

"Yana," he whispered, feeling helpless.

"Time to say goodbye," Jiliha, standing at the top of the steps, said nastily, her beautiful features ugly with cruel glee. But then, very suddenly, her expression turned from triumphant to horrified. "Impossible!" she exclaimed, extending a trembling hand. "You can't!"

Trying to see, Franzis struggled against the guards, and when they refused to yield his anger took over. With a long-practised twist he managed to free his right arm and immediately delivered a crushing blow to the closest guard's windpipe. That one fell with a gurgling sound. These were not the Royal Guardsmen he had selected to be Yana's personal bodyguards, those had all been killed, he suspected. A point in his favor. Seizing a random arm, Franzis threw the attached soldier over his shoulder and sent him crashing into his companions. But he stopped short when he saw what Jiliha had noticed previously. Yana had stood up, her blue eyes clear and full of anger. The sole focus of her attention was Jiliha, though, and Franzis found his heart aching at that apparent rejection.

"Yana," he called out softly. 

But she did not seem to see him. "You will not succeed," she declared, her voice hoarse with having been silent for too long, a sad fury audible in her words that raked across Franzis' heart brutally. "I will not have it. I will not let you have your triumph."

"Go back to where you came from, old woman, and leave this business to those who can stomach the consequences," Jiliha retorted coldly. 

With breath-taking force everyone save Yana was shoved hard against the wall by the door, and Franzis was not the only one who was surprised by that attack. Choking, he tried to rise. She had never employed the Dark Side like that before. Never! "Yana!" Still there was no indication that she even noticed him. What was he to do? Desperate, Franzis looked around, saw the soldiers climb to their feet groggily, hefting their weapons. 

Jiliha was mad with rage. "You interfering old hag!" she screeched. "You are too stupid to know when you are beaten!"

Franzis made his move, launching himself at the closest guard, trying to wrestle the blaster rifle out of the man's hands. As both men crashed to the ground, Franzis saw Yana raise her hands, fingers curled into claws, and charge, a feral snarl on her face. Blond curls flying behind her, she crossed the distance to the door in no time – and was thrown back violently when a single shot rang through the cell, and a single blaster bolt tore through her neck. He saw her expression change to astonishment in that timeless moment it took him to realize what was happening. Then reality rushed back in and he saw her fall against the bed-frame in a tangled heap. Shocked, he did not find the strength to move, and was unable to understand what Jiliha was screaming at the soldiers. One of them walked over to check the fallen empress for life-signs, then shook his head slowly. Mind gushing with ice, Franzis was filled with only one thought. 

Yana was dead. 

Someone grabbed his collar and started banging his head into the floor, but he barely noticed. His mind was numb with the revelation that he had failed to protect the Empress, failed to protect his wife, the mother of his child, his love. Eyes open wide, he felt something tear his heart into tiny, tiny shreds of anguish that spread all over his body and made his flesh prick with white-hot needles of deepest grief. He could not breathe any longer, as his awareness tightened into a protective ball, trying to shield him from his own crushing feelings. Then the guard who had been pummelling him let go of his collar and punched his fist hard into Franzis' stomach. The former Imperial agent inhaled with an agonized gasp, then rolled around to lie on his side, his glazed eyes fixed on Yana's limp body. 

Head lolling to the side, a smoking hole burned through her throat, she was looking into the distance, not at him. The sight broke his heart all over again. Why had she ignored him? Had she not trusted his wit to get them out of this, as he had so many times before? Had he forfeited her love too, along with her trust, that she would not acknowledge him even as she had made her choice to die? Not for him, never for him, he knew. So long ago he had sworn to protect her, with his own life, if necessary. But he had always known that her duty superseded her love for him. And yet he wished very much for that acknowledgement, the assurance of her love, her trust in him, even in death. He did find neither in her slack features and blank gaze.

In that moment he felt utterly betrayed. He had felt that way before, once, when he had believed she had betrayed her ideals, his own, too, and had been proven so wrong after all. But now ... Now he would never know, would never hear her justify her decision. They would never again tease one another over one mistake or the other, never again discuss their plans deep into the night. He would never again admonish her for her foolish courage, her reckless bravery that had cost him so many sleepless nights and had got her killed now, after all. He scolded himself for not having tried harder to purge her heart of too much pride He was not like that. He was a survivor, not a fighter, if there were other ways than to make a stand. He stopped his thoughts then, overcome with bitterness. What husband was he, that he did not even find the strength to mourn his wife properly? But he had to think of the future now, the Empire's future, his daughter ... 

Rolling around to lie on his back he gazed at the ceiling above, his eyes bereft of emotion. He did not even stir when two of the soldiers went forward to carry Yana's body from the tiny cell, out of his grasp. But inside his mind he imagined that he launched himself at the men, snarling with rage, a rage that filled his heart to bursting, that he kept himself controlled beneath a flimsy shield of cool reason, desperate to take back what was his, his beloved, his heart. But no. No fight - not now. No matter how much he lusted for blood, for vengeance. Franzis Sarreti did not even move when Jiliha n'Averone moved to his side, bent over his prone form, a frown marring her pretty face. 

"A pity," she told him softly, but then a cruel little smile flashed across her features, and her eyes lit up with gleeful malice. "But perhaps we can turn this to our advantage still. You'll see."

His heart skipped a beat when he realized what she was hinting at, but then, he had been expecting this, hadn't he? His eyes never flickered when her face moved out of his line of sight again, but he heard one of the soldiers ask, "What about him?"

And Jiliha answered, "For now, let him grieve. We can always get rid of him later."

The door closed behind them, leaving him alone and without options. There was nothing he could do now but hope, and pray. What he did though, was weep, for his wife, for his love, and for himself.

Head jerking upright abruptly, Naas Deron barely noticed the frightened look on Cordell Tryway's pudgy face. The landlord was still busy stitching together the last few slashes that had nearly taken off the Cor'dan's left arm in a close escape from Jiliha's forces and was already feeling apologetic for that. Now, hands stilled in anticipation of a rebuke, he was staring a the taller human anxiously.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, voice timid.

For a moment Deron did not answer. He knew exactly what had happened. Yana Dar was dead, as expected. He had known that, once within her grasp, Jiliha would not let the empress live. So, from Cordell's point of view something was indeed terribly wrong. But from his own point of view... A slow smile spread across his features, not a nice smile, but one that forbore nothing good at all. "Bad move, my dear," he whispered. "Now play your game and seal your fate," he added, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Confused, Cordell sat back on his haunches. "Cor'dan, what is going on?"

Looking directly at the landlord, Deron saw the man flinch back from his intense gaze. "Do you sometimes play holo-chess, Master Tryway?"

"S – sometimes," Cordell stuttered. "Why?"

"Well," the Cor'dan explained, "as you know the ultimate goal of the game is to capture the king, and the queen is essential in his defence, since she can move virtually anywhere and threaten anyone." Cordell gave a wary nod. "But sometimes, my friend, a peasant turns into a shining knight, and a fool into a king. And you never know where another queen might be lurking."

By the time Deron had finished his little speech Tryway had gone very pale. "The Empress!" he breathed. "She is – "

"Dead?" Cocking his brows, Deron gave him a questioning glance. "I fear so, yes."

He pushed himself out of the chair, face twisting as a twinge of pain shot through his shoulder, up from his injured arm. Ignoring Cordell's shock, he fell into the flow of the power he carried within himself, and found confirmation for his own plans there. One of his reasons for sending Luzaya away had been the princess' safety. The other had been her innocence, since he had known all too well that Yana would be forced to take harsher measures to keep the seemingly growing unrest under control. Had Luzaya witnessed this directly she would have tried to interfere, and ruined everything Deron had planned. As it was the empress' death would split the public cleanly, there was no in-between. And Jiliha and her New Republic cronies would triumph, undoubtedly. They would never ever see the hammer swinging at their backs. 

But, as he had told Cordell just now, Jiliha's true aim in this game had been the king, the person she deemed most important to keeping the resistance against her usurpation alive: the Cor'dan. She would try to get at him more forcefully now, and he was certain of what methods _she_ would use in an effort to subdue him. Oh, yes, he knew very well. Sometimes a fool could be a king, or a king a fool. And sometimes a squire became battle-leader. He only had to survive long enough to see to it that the squire in question did not fall prey to his lady's wrath. 

TBC

PS:

Illidan, thank you very much for the feedback, I am very happy you enjoy this series so much. 


	20. First Move

**Chapter 18**

Leia Organa Solo was not happy at all. "Where have you been?" she demanded and jumped up from her seat on the couch to confront her father as he strode into the living-room. "Where have you been?"

"Easy, honey", Han tried to soothe her when he came after her to hold her arm. He had come back from Naboo only yesterday, and he was as concerned as she was, that she knew. Which was why she did not understand his siding with her father now. She shook him off angrily, her eyes glued to Anakin's face. "No. He will answer. What was that supposed to be about Jacen and Jaina murdering Mahel Sivaraya? This damn recording they sent all over the holonet! Father! Why do I hear all this from anyone else but you?"

"I told you what would happen, back on Naboo, didn't I?" he replied smoothly, seemingly unfazed by her accusations.

"You told me Yana would die," she countered sharply. "No news of that so far."

"Why should Jiliha tell us now? There is always a time an a place, Leia," he reminded her, eyes narrowing. "You should know."

"Wait a moment", Han injected, aghast. "Yana is going to die? Have I heard that correctly?" Gape-mouthed, he stared first at his wife, then at his father-in-law. Leia, who now regretted that slip of her tongue, glanced over at her father to seek some reassurance, but Anakin's expression did not give anything away. "Anakin," Han continued, "you knew?" He sounded lost, and she could easily identify with his feelings. She had felt much the same, when her father had broken that particular bad news.

Then Father shook his head. "There is no way to change her fate now, Han. Naas Deron cannot protect her. No matter what he tries, he would be too late."

"And you stand there and tell me that you are feeling nothing at all? Leia?"

"Han," she tried. "Please believe me when I tell you that I grieve as much as you do. But Father is right. There is no way to prevent it. Jiliha n'Averone would never let Deron come close enough to rescue Yana. You believe us, don't you?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked weakly, before he turned away to seat himself again. "And what about the children?" he demanded softly. "Leia asked you a question, Anakin. What about this foolishness concerning Mahel's supposed death on Korriban?"

"They are trying to frame us," Father replied. "Don't you see? First they bring up the genocide of the Yevetha, committed by a man who is conveniently dead and can no longer be questioned. Then they try to paint Jacen and Jaina as cold-hearted killers, no matter that they have supposedly taken care of Luzaya Dan's kidnapper. You saw where this took place?"

"The news-grids certainly made sure to mention it, yes", Han grated out sourly. "Korriban, a mysterious stronghold of the Sith, wasn't it something like that?"

"They should not have access to the co-ordinates, not even under the charter," Leia mused aloud. "They must have allies in high places, to get that information, but that we already knew, am I right?"

"Yes," Father conceded. "This battle is not fought with ships and armies, I fear, but politics. I am not very good at those."

"Do you have an idea of what will happen next?" she asked nevertheless.

He shrugged. "I do not know when Jiliha will break the news of Yana's death, but I can imagine how she will package it up. She will claim that the Yuuzhan Vong rebelled against the Empress' injustice and that Yana was killed during an attack on the Citadel. I do not know whether Jiliha will try to frame Franzis in any way, but she will certainly try to tell the New Republic that Naas Deron is siding with the rebellious Yuuzhan Vong and that a state of emergency is imminent. Fey'lya will make a deal with her, you'll see."

"To what end?"

"Wipe out the Yuuzhan Vong, and therefore Yana's legacy. The Empire will fall to the New Republic and Jiliha will rule that sector. But Ja'han'mandana would never stand for it. So they have to isolate the Chiss first."

Leia felt her face drain of all colour. If the conspirators managed to break the alliance between the Chiss and Sith Empire … "How?"

"I have no idea. I cannot imagine what could make Ja'han'mandana abandon us. Mith'raw'naruodo is on his way to Csilla to muster a fleet that he can use to detain any threat coming out of either the New Republic or the Sith Empire. If all else fails, we will be at war again. He won't allow the Republic to attack the Chiss first."

"And the Council will rule, just as Mon Mothma feared," Leia finished for him.

He gave her a crooked smile and shrugged. "You know, right now I don't think that such a bad idea."

"It would be wrong, Father, and you know it. The people must decide what they want."

"Then we must help them find a truth. We must uncover this conspiracy", he said. "Naas Deron has the power to end this foolishness but he will not, for his own reasons. I think I know what he is trying to accomplish and therefore we should concentrate on the New Republic." He hesitated, then continued, "Luke is on Csilla, with Ja'han'mandana and he will assist both Deron and Thrawn in their respective missions. And there is something else. Jix and Mara are here – were, I should say."

Han's face lit up. "Oh," he said, "Why didn't they show up with you? Would have been nice seeing them again."

"Yes," Leia agreed with a smile and patted her husband's head affectionately. "So what made them leave without dropping by to chat at least for a moment?"

"Luzaya Dan," Anakin explained.

"She was here?" Leia felt her jaw drop in astonishment. "Father, she could have clarified a lot of misunderstandings, you know?"

He shook his head ruefully before he answered, "Yes, that is true, but I have given over the lead over this mission to Ja'han'mandana. If they are trying to frame us, the Council and respectively the Sith and Jedi, we should not be found dabbling with the princess' supposed kidnapping."

"And what if this is exactly what they want, so they can frame Ja'han'mandana instead?"

When his head came up his eyes were icy cold. "If Borsk Fey'lya even thinks of messing with him, then he deserves the bloody head he's surely going to get. They can't touch the Chiss."

"There are always ways," Han reminded him quite unnecessarily, as Leia thought.

She had something else on her mind, "Where are the children now?"

"Safe. They should be on their way back to Naboo already."

That reply made Leia sigh with relief. So they had gained some breathing space. Everything was in motion, another game had begun. Yet she had a feeling that until they had news of their allies, that everything was in place, they could not feel truly confident. And she was concerned for her children. Though she believed Anakin when he said they were safe, she would not be content until she held both of them in her arms again. "Is Nuron with them?" she asked softly.

"Along with Khameir," Father confirmed. "They will be all right, you'll see. I will contact Al'than'erudo and ask him to have the twins call us once they're on planet."

Leia exhaled slowly. "Thank you"; she breathed at last. "I appreciate it."

Then the apartment's comm chimed in a discreet but steady manner. It was Han who answered it. He listened earnestly for a moment, then handed the comm to Anakin. "It' s Page and he sounds serious", he told his father-in-law softly. Frowning, Leia watched her father very closely as he answered the call. "Yes", he said, and only that, before he handed the comm back to Han. "Leia, we need to pay a visit to the NRI."

"What did he say?" she asked, felling uneasy. "Is something wrong?"

"They've found Kattaran's body. The real Kattaran's body. This does not look good for us," he explained. "He wants to question us both."

"Which means that in truth he is questioning the Council?" she concluded and shook her head when he simply nodded. "Why must this always happen to us? Why can't they just trust our judgement?"

Father shrugged, then patted her shoulder affectionately. "Don't worry. He simply wants to know the truth. You and I both understand that desire, don't we?"

"Yes." Leia sent a pleading glance at her husband and asked, "Will you stay and contact Al'than'erudo?" It was immediately clear to her that he was disappointed and hurt by her refusing to take him along. Though he understood her desire to have someone stay behind and wait for news of the children, she could tell that he saw that she needed him too. No matter how competent he thought Father to be, Han felt that his wife, his family, was his responsibility, not that Anakin's. He was right, of course. But her decision had been a calculated one. She could sense that Father was nervous, and that could only mean they'd be in trouble. There was something he wasn't telling them, but she could guess what that might be. They had been suspecting back at Naboo already that someone was trying to frame the Council and bring it down along with Yana Dar. "Let's go then," she agreed. "Han, please tell me, if you have any news," she asked then and wrapped an arm around her husband's neck to draw him close for a kiss. When their lips touched she could feel his anguish, and resolved to fill him in on everything she knew once she returned from the NRI headquarters. "I will see you later," she promised in a whisper, then joined her father at the door. They left together, took the family's speeder to the fortress that had once belonged to the Dark Lord of the Sith and was now headquarters for New Republic Intelligence. They were expected already and an aide led them to a conference room that Leia thought looked like any other, stark and anonymous. Telmann Page was the only one waiting for them and she was not sure whether that was a good sign or not. The general sat at the table opposite from the door and went through some files on his holopad, as far as she could tell. When they came in he dismissed the aide and asked them to take a seat themselves. "What do you have for us? "Father asked without preamble.

"The question rather is, what information do you have that could be useful to us?" the head of the NRI asked right back. Page's expression was carefully neutral as he looked up to gaze straight at the former Cor'dan.

Anakin cocked his head to the side and smiled indulgently. "What might that mean? Concerning Kattaran? Where did you find his body anyway?"

"In the sewers, if you must know, but that is of no consequence," Page explained. "The question posing itself, to my mind, is where the princess is right now. Was the Yuuzhan Vong your grand-children killed truly Mahel Sivaraya? Because I doubt it," he added. "Alowyn Kattaran was killed on Crosucant and replaced by someone else. I am pretty certain that Mahel Sivaraya was nowhere near the capital when that murder occurred."

"And you would be right," Leia inserted quietly. "I have met Mahel Sivaraya in person. He was with the princess all the time."

Page gave a small nod, his eyes locked on something on the screen before him. "I believe you," he said, much to Leia's relief, but when he continued she felt her heart gush with ice-water. "Yet if this was not Mahel Sivaraya the twins killed on Korriban, I wonder, were these the real Solo twins? For, as perhaps you know, your children, Leia, Jaina and Jacen Solo, were reportedly seen on a world named Ordesha only within a day of these recorded events on Korriban. I have checked the co-ordinates," he added, before Leia could comment, "and that trip is impossible to make in one day."

"What is it you want to know?" Anakin asked gently. "Go ahead, please."

"Well," Page began and leaned back in his chair, seemingly at ease. "Let us assume this incident on Korriban was staged by someone who was aiming at leading us astray, perhaps even someone who wished to discredit the Council. This does not answer the question of what your children, Leia, were doing on Ordesha, along with your daughter-in-law and grand-son, Lord Skywalker, I might add. And, more importantly, what was their role in the death of one Doctor Plawal of the Preena Institute of Archaeology and Bioresearch on said world? I have here a report by a number of eye-witnesses, associates of Plawal, who claim that he was murdered with your children's consent, and, what is more, with the consent of Nuron Sarin-Skywalker. Since when, Lord Skywalker, does the Council sanction murder?"

Leia felt her breath catch and she was also aware of Anakin's surprise. This he had not anticipated. "What is this?" he asked, sounding uncertain. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Anteres Plawal was killed by a boy – it says here he was perhaps eight years old – on the planet Ordesha. Savagely slain, the report claims, in fact."

"Killed by a boy? A grown man?" Leia asked, incredulous.

"With his bare hands, apparently," Page continued unperturbed, "The report also says that your grand-son, Lord Skywalker, Khameir Sarin-Skywalker, stood by and let it happen, although, and this is also unanimous, he obviously was in control of the boy." He looked up to meet the former Dark Lord's blue eyed-gaze calmly. "I fear we must ask all of the participants to come to Coruscant for questioning. In the recent past the group around Doctor Plawal asked the Council's assistance in investigating the happenings on N'zoth, which, I know, you and your associates, have tried to disassociate from Yana Dar. Which is all very well. I don't judge your views, to me your evidence was sound. But Nuron Sarin-Skywalker will be held to her responsibility that she had when she entered that agreement with Doctor Plawal to assist him. She and her husband both. Perhaps, though, you can explain?"

"Tell me about the boy," Anakin demanded, his tone so cold even Leia flinched.

Telmann Page did not react immediately, but when he managed to shake himself out of his momentary paralysis he complied readily. "A boy, dressed like a savage, thin, with long, black hair. Do you know him?"

"That could well be," Leia heard her Father reply in a soft whisper. "And it would explain some things."

"What things?" It was Leia, who demanded to know just that. She, too, had a suspicion, but she wanted him to say it.

Anakin rose instead of answering and his daughter joined him instinctively. But Page was unimpressed. "I did not give you leave to rise," he said calmly. "Please sit down again."

"You have no evidence to hold us," Father replied. "Whatever these people have reported may or may not be true, but it does not alter anything. It were neither my grand-children who killed this Plawal nor Nuron Sarin-Skywalker. She could not have protected him anyway."

"Who is this boy?"

"Just someone who should not be here," Anakin growled. His patience was obviously wearing thin. "Al'than'erudo will answer for the Council, I can assure you that. But first we will confirm whether or not that report is true." Suddenly his mouth turned into a sweet smiled as he asked, "By your leave?"

"As you said, I can't hold you," Page confessed. "But keep me posted."

"I will tell Al'than'erudo you said that," Anakin promised, then went for the door. "Leia, do you have any business on Coruscant? Else you will be leaving with me. You and Han both. There's an appointment we have to keep."

Luzaya sat in her seat, twitching nervously. "You truly think he will be all right?"

Jix sighed and leaned back against the comm console, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Don't worry, the boy's not stupid," he tried, but Luzaya thought that the way he said it was not very convincing. But perhaps that was only an illusion. Jix simply could not be as worried for Mahel as she was. They had left him all by himself, in the midst of enemies. Of course, Anakin had assured her that someone would be watching over her bodyguard, but would that someone be enough? And had she been right to agree to this trip to Csilla? Why could she not simply return to Byss, see for herself what was happening at the imperial court. What would happen to her parents now? Was anyone watching over them? Deron? She hoped so dearly. They had told her at least that, that her parents had been made prisoner by that traitorous Jiliha n'Averone. She had never liked that woman, not at all! Yet no-one had told her anything else about what had been said while she had been away, throwing a temper tantrum that Mara had been forced to witness quite involuntarily. When she'd returned Mahel had said good-bye and left along with Anakin, and only shortly after the ship had left Coruscant. Somehow, she thought, all decisions had been made without her ever knowing what was at stake. It was a strange feeling, not to be the mistress of her own fate, and she wondered whether this was what Naas Deron felt, sometimes. It was a frightening prospect.

"Come on, girl, snap out of it and lighten up a little," Jix suggested in his usual blunt manner. "Ever been to Csilla? You'll like it. And you'll like Ja'han'mandana. There's a lot you can learn from him."

"That I don't doubt," Luzaya whispered. She knew a little about Ja'han'mandana, though she had never met him in person. A cunning creature, sharp. Mother spoke of him fondly. "What am I going to do on Csilla? If Ja'han'mandana officially sides with me and threatens Jiliha, won't she just close off the borders? She could start a war over this," she continued to muse aloud. "I would not want that. I know Mother would do anything in her power to prevent it."

Jix shrugged helplessly. "I fear I am the wrong guy to ask for advice. Why don't you just wait and see what the Emperor proposes? He won't betray you, that I know for certain."

How can you be so sure? she wanted to ask, but kept her doubts to herself. What motives did Ja'han'mandana have? Could Jiliha truly threaten his empire? The answer was a clear yes. If she allied herself with the New Republic, and that had to be her ultimate goal, Luzaya thought, else this entire conspiracy involving the New Republic would make no sense, she would have the resources to contain Ja'han'mandana's forces, if necessary. The New Republic was jealous of the relations the two empires shared, Father had told her that, hadn't he, just shortly before she had left Byss. So perhaps Jix truly was right and Ja'han'mandana was her best chance at turning the tide. But how to accomplish that? How to approach Jiliha? Not with arms, that was clear. She had to stall for time, gain the Council some breathing space to interfere. Luke Skywalker was on Csilla, perhaps he would be sent to Byss to contact Deron and assist him. So many questions! If only she had Mahel with her to discuss her misgivings. He would understand her and he would be able to offer advice now. But, as it was, she would have to rely on her own wits for the time to come. Still, was she not the Cor'dan's trusted pupil? Had Naas Deron not taught her all she needed to know already? This was her first test. Time to prove to herself that she had made the right choices, when she had decided to follow the Cor'dan.

The Millennium Falcon was berthed at one of the military ports and for once Anakin regretted that very much indeed. He did not like all those watching eyes that surrounded them as they prepared to board the ship and leave. Han was just making the last preparations and the Corellian seemed to be very nervous. They had not heard anything from Naboo yet and Anakin doubted they would anytime soon. Al'than'erudo would bide his time, until he could be certain that Anakin and his companions were out of Coruscant's reach. With a tiny sigh, the former Dark Lord looked over at his daughter, who had been very quiet ever since they had left the Solo family's apartment. There had been no need to voice his suspicion concerning that little boy aloud, he had felt that she'd understood and the idea of having to deal with Roj Kell again made her sick, even if he appeared in a different and seemingly harmless guise. Harmless? For Force's sake, he had killed a grown man with his bare hands! Why this interference now? Why not earlier? Why let twenty years pass in which the Council could evolve only to dismantle it now with this insidious game of hide and seek? Was he behind the conspiracy? Or was his a different goal altogether?

"We're ready to leave." That was Han, who came up to join Anakin at the landing ramp. "I'll go and power up the engines," he continued, "do you want to play co-pilot?"

Nodding, Anakin followed him into the depth for the freighter, where Leia was already waiting. She did not quite meet the men's eyes as they passed her wordlessly, but both Anakin and his son-in-law felt that she did not want to be disturbed. It was clear that she was worrying over the twin's fate, especially in the light of what Telmann Page had revealed to them. They really needed to get an update from Naboo soon. Anakin took his seat in the co-pilot's chair that was still too large and only fit for a Wookiee, even though Chewbacca had long retreated to Kashyyk to live in peace with his own family. And yet, the former Dark Lord would not want to miss that reminder of times so long past. Suddenly he though of Chi'in and wondered how his old friend would take Roj Kell's return. With grace, he suspected, as always. There was nothing that could truly shake the Noghri. In that he was much like Andarack was now. Andarack. He had known what neither Mon Mothma nor Bred Antham had been aware of, that the Noghri Sith Lord had been waiting for them on Coruscant even before they had left from Naboo. A brilliant move on Al'than'erudo's part, and obviously made in accordance with Thrawn's and Ja'han'mandana's wishes. Thrawn and Ishare Luvo where still busy assembling their fleet in the Unknown Territories, but that did not mean that the former Grand Admiral was not keeping an eye on what the rest of the Council was up to. So now Andarack remained on Coruscant to watch over both Mon Mothma and Bred Antham as well as over Mahel Sivaraya. Thinking of the boy, Anakin hoped that the young warrior would surrender to the New Republic authorities soon. He could clarify many an understanding then. And, more important, draw out their enemies for Andarack to expose.

A movement by his side interrupted his thoughts all of a sudden and he nodded, when Han asked, "Ready? We've received clearance just now."

"I am sorry, yes. I was just a bit –"

"No need for excuses," the Corellian assured him. "I feel the same, believe me."

Grimacing in sympathy, Anakin set to plotting their course to Naboo while Han gently moved the freighter forward. "Everything's clear", he announced and then the ship shot out into the sky. They gained height quickly, but just before they reached the clouds death reached out for them.

Mahel Sivaraya took a deep, calming breath, before he allowed himself to feast his eyes on the forbidding structure that was the NRI headquarters. Anakin Skywalker had asked him to go there to give himself up, and go there straight away, without delay. He understood that urgency, of course, but he still felt uncomfortable about surrendering to his enemies over a crime he had not committed. The former Cor'dan had charged him with telling the truth, and only that, as if Mahel had ever lied in his life. Wistfully, he looked over at what had once been the Imperial Palace and now housed the New Republic's senate. He had allies here, he knew, Mon Mothma and Bred Antham of the Council of Naboo, and a guardian, as Lord Skywalker claimed. He could well imagine who that was and he did not like it one bit. To trust the creature that had murdered his father was not easy. But he had met Andarack clan Rim'kai before and come to know him as an honourable warrior and cunning tactician, though not easily trusted. This would not be an easy task. Especially since he had been forced to leave Luzaya's side and give her into the care of Jixton and Jade. Of course, those two were competent and powerful themselves, very experienced, and Luzaya would be safe on Csilla. But still, he had a feeling that the princess would need a confidant soon. Someone she trusted, and, he was proud of that, this someone was none other than Mahel Sivaraya. He shook his head firmly then. No matter. If both Anakin Skywalker and Emperor Ja'han'mandana agreed that he would best serve her by giving himself up to the New Republic authorities, who was he to question their judgement? With a sigh he rose from his perch and began walking across the street toward the double-doors that made up the fortress's entrance. He was spotted immediately yet he watched the guards coming toward him with utmost calm.

"Get down!" one of the humans yelled at him. "Lie down! Now!"

Mahel halted and gracefully knelt on the tarmac. More guards were closing in around him. He just prepared to lie down when a deafening roar exploded into the skies and stopped time itself for a heart-beat. Mahel felt his own heart skip a beat and then leap into his throat for a hoarse scream of both fear and surprise. Someone grabbed his arm and dragged him upright only seconds before a large piece of masonry crashed into the street where he had lain before. "Come along!" the woman, a Twi'lek, screamed at him. She too, was a guard, he saw, and she was leading him toward the shelter of the fortress quickly, both of them sheltered in the midst of a phalanx of soldiers. Bewildered, Mahel looked around to see what had happened. In the distance he saw smoke rising from the former Imperial Palace. An explosion? What else could that roar have been? What had happened?

"What in Sith's hells was that?" Han yelled, both angry and shocked. "Anakin? Any idea?"

"An explosion," Leia heard her father mumble, stunned. "At the Imperial Palace, as far as I can tell. Can you contact anyone on the ground?"

"No need," her husband growled softly. "This is the Millennium Falcon, I can hear you;" he said into the microphone installed into this head-comm. "Return to port? I am not sure, whether –"

"No way," Anakin interrupted him icily. "We are leaving. Now."

"Sorry, buddy, but my father-in-law tells me we won't change course. Sorry, but you know how it is. Are you a married man? No? Was that an insult?"

"Han!" Leia called out as she fought to reach the two of them up front. "What is going on?"

"An explosion at the Imperial Palace," Father explained, his tone eerily calm. "They're likely closing off the planet."

"If we leave now, we will violate security regulations, you know what that means," she reminded him earnestly, but he only shrugged.

"I could not care less."

That was exactly what she had feared he would say. "Han?" she tried, but her husband's face was fixed into a tight grimace of concern and concentration both as he drove the ship toward open space hard.

"Honey, I won't risk your daddy's wrath over some bureaucrat's demands," he explained between gritted teeth. "That can be very unhealthy."

She had to laugh at that, but her mirth did not last. "This will have consequences, but – " she continued and held up her hand to prevent Father from interrupting her, "I agree. If we stay there's no telling when we'll be allowed to leave again."

"Good girl, clever as ever," Anakin commented with a smile. "They're sending fighters to intercept us, and a Star Destroyer, Han. Watch out."

"You're not going to shoot at them, are you?" Han asked suddenly, aghast. Leia had not even thought of that, but when her Father unstrapped himself from his seat and instead pushed her into the oversized co-pilot's chair, she had a very bad feeling. "Father?"

"Don't worry, Leia, I won't do anything stupid."

Compressing her lips into a tight line she shook her head at his retreating back, but she made sure she kept a close watch over him as he vanished from her sight. Following his presence through the ship she sought a hint at what he was planning to do, but all she could sense was that he was utterly calm, composed, as if he prepared to perform a particular difficult feat with the aid of the Force. Was he going to try and influence the pilots of the fighters that were just now converging on the Millennium Falcon? Apparently not, she found, when a warning shot hit the freighter's forward shields.

"What is he up to?" Han asked even while his fingers were dancing over the controls of his ship. "Is he all right?"

Leia paused, then shook her head. "I don't know. Just get us out of here, okay?"

"Whatever you say, honey."

"How many arrests today? Approximately?" Naas Deron asked coolly once Cordell Tryway had come to a stop beside him.

The innkeeper-turned-rebel fidgeted with the long sleeves of his shirt, nervous as ever when he was in the Cor'dan's presence. But he answered bravely. "Fourteen arrests, as far as we can tell," he reported. "People are growing restless. Some even say all Yuuzhan Vong should be interned for treason against the Empire."

"Yes. She has packaged it up very nicely," Deron agreed. "A clever move to claim Yana was killed by a Yuuzhan Vong mob. And no-one questioned that lie."

"People are afraid," Cordell tried to explain.

Laughing out loud, Deron threw his head back and closed his eyes. "That is a very human trait, my friend," he whispered, once his mirth had faded away. "But belief, true belief, knows no fear." Cordell kept silent. Annoyed, Deron whirled toward the door, brooding darkly. Jiliha had made her move by claiming that Empress Yana Dar had been murdered when a mob of angry Yuuzhan Vong citizens had supposedly managed to get into the palace. The human citizens had swallowed that lie all too willingly, while the Yuuzhan Vong populace had protested quite vehemently. And still he had not heard anything from Alyn Cha. The priestess had had enough time to think his offer through. Now she had proof that Jiliha would not remain true to her word, so what was keeping her from joining the Cor'dan? He had read her soul and knew that she would not betray him. But he needed her support _now_. "You are still spreading the word?" he inquired gently.

"Yes, Cor'dan. And more and more people join us, though they are mostly Yuuzhan Vong. And they are afraid," he added carefully.

"Of course. They need proof of the value of our belief first, Tryway. Always proof. Noone is curious enough to simply trust and have faith. It is infuriating, really."

"Did you believe, when you became Cor'dan?" the former innkeeper asked in wonderment.

"I was curious," Deron replied. "I did not believe. Now I do." Straightening his shoulders he continued, "Any news from Miecona?"

"None, Cor'dan. They are keeping silent. It's been three days -"

"Too long," Deron growled. "What about our spies in the palace? Myryane, for example? Any news from her?"

"Jiliha has her watched, that was the last she could tell me. She is too valuable to lose, you said, so I am not going to contact her now, else she'll share the empress' fate."

Naas Deron shook his head. "No. Jiliha means to use her to trap Luzaya. You'll see. When, and I know she will, the princess returns to Byss, she will seek out her old friends. And that is when Jiliha will have her." He fell silent again and listened to his surroundings, trying to keep up with the mood of the planet. There were so many variables now, inside the Empire and elsewhere, that it became hard to distinguish between them. And there was still that presence lurking in the back of his mind, an unknown ally that refused to be uncovered. It was really annoying. But not as annoying as being forced to stand by and let Jiliha destroy everything that Yana Dar had worked so hard to build. He had more allies now, of course, his congregation, or what was left of it, and more and more Yuuzhan Vong who sought to join the Cor'dan and enjoy his protection while Jiliha's troops hunted their brothers and sisters down. The Cor'dan's spies were everywhere, but there were not nearly enough. Which was why he needed Alyn Cha. "I am going to pay a visit to the priestess," he announced at last and turned to face Cordell. "I am waiting for a report from Colonel Hathak," he continued, referring to a tall human, who was also part of his congregation. "So you'll stay and receive it, all right?"

"Will you be long?"

"I hope not. But don't worry. Jiliha needs more resources than she has at her disposal to get rid of me."

"Are you sure?"

"Very. My time hasn't come yet. Once you have Hathak's report the two of you will leave, though. At once. Is that clear?"

He saw Cordell go very pale. "You mean – "

"That they've found this hide-out, yes. We'll regroup tomorrow evening at the old warehouses in the Southern port city, you know where."

"Yes, Cor'dan," Cordell mumbled miserably. "I'll be there."

"Good." Leaving the man alone, Deron slipped out into the darkness of the streets and shook his head with a sad smile. Cordell was extremely loyal, but he did not believe yet. He was propelled on by fear, fear for Luzaya, and fear of Naas Deron. An unwilling ally, but an ally nevertheless, and dutiful too. But there were only two allies he could trust completely. One was Luzaya, who would hate him when she returned to Byss, and the other Mahel Sivaraya. The young warrior believed completely, he would never doubt the Cor'dan. Which was both pleasing and reassuring. With that thought for company he turned into the small alley where Alyn Cha resided in that small house of hers. And he knew immediately that something was very wrong. His skin itched with a dark foreboding and the violence permeating the air grated at his nerves. A trap. Well. He had seen this coming, in truth, but he still needed to be certain of Alyn Cha's commitment That was, after all, the entire reason for his being here. She needed to trust in his sincerity too, that much was clear to him, especially now that she felt so utterly betrayed by her former ally Jiliha n'Averone. Moving cautiously, Deron tried to be as quiet as possible, and it was easy for him to alter the perception of those watching the narrow alleyway. He let himself into the small house and felt his senses heighten even more as he stalked across the living room. She was not asleep, that he could feel instantly. Instead the priestess was sitting very quietly in a chair by the window, listening to the suspicious sounds from outside.

"They are here, yes," Naas Deron said softly and immediately felt her fear lash out at him across the darkness, like a whip, hurting him deeply. It made him actually feel glad she could not see him. It would not do o show his weakness now. Then he heard her get up quickly, heard her turn toward him. "Cor'dan," she exclaimed, in a low voice, thankfully, but her surprise was still apparent. "You have come!"

"Why so shocked? Did you not expect me?" he asked back and came over to join her by the window. "You still owe me an answer, Alyn Cha, to a certain offer I made."

She looked up at him, honest concern plain on her stately features. "They have been waiting for this to happen, they've been watching my house for several days and nights now."

Deron nodded. "I know. I have been watching too, you see? And now, will you join us?"

"Do I have any other choice?" she bit back angrily. "Jiliha has at last shown her true face. You were right," she conceded, sounding bitter, even to him. "She has only left me alone until now so I could be bait for you. I have no illusions about my fate. I will join those poor people languishing in the palace's dungeons soon. And you will die."

"I will not," he told her firmly, "and neither will you be imprisoned. Come with me priestess, speak to you people, give them courage. That is what you want, is it not? You want them to stand up for themselves, free from all bonds, free from any overlord, be it human or Yuuzhan Vong."

"You read my soul, Cor'dan."

"Yes. And I know what your answer will be. So say it. Please."

He thought she was smiling when she replied, "If you knew, why ask? Why not wait until I was at your mercy?"

"Because I want you to trust me. So here I am, surrounded by enemies just as you are. Let us face this danger together, you and I, for the Empire."

"And for the princess? Yana Dar is dead," she reminded him, apparently afraid.

"Do you regret that?"

"She was a fine woman."

Naas Deron took a deep breath. "Thank you, Alyn Cha. For your honesty."

"Jiliha's soldiers will be trying to kill us."

"They won't succeed. Trust me on that." He offered her hand to her then. "Just trust me."

She hesitated at first, but then, very reluctantly, she, too, raised her hands to touch his. His fingers closed about her slender wrist quickly and drew her away from the window just as the first of the grenades he had been sensing exploded against it. Alyn Cha screamed out in surprise and fear but Deron held her tightly as he dove to the floor to avoid the shrapnel raining all over them from the destroyed window. He had to concentrate both on soothing her and keeping a close watch over the soldiers around the two of them, not a too difficult task, but then a familiar presence demanded his attention. He swatted its consciousness down brutally, he had no time to deal with any unexpected interference, no matter who was calling. "Down," he ordered harshly, when a volley of deadly blaster fire screamed toward them. "Toward the door," he added unnecessarily. Alyn Cha was already on her way. "Wait," he called ahead, "let em go through first."

She complied without protest, waited until he stood directly in front of her, breathing the scent of fear that came both from the Yuuzhan Vong female behind him and the soldiers on the other side of the door. Naas Deron concentrated deeply, seeking solace in his innate power and expanded his mind to those around him. So easy to twist them to his will, but unnecessary. At a word the door blew out of its hinges and he could sense the living house jerk in pain. No time to think about casualties now. "Come," he growled and took Alyn Cha's hand once more. "Run. Just that. All right?" Without waiting for her reply he leaped out into the street, dragging her with him as he hurried into the darkness, just moments before powerful light-beams cut through the night, like searching eyes. For a moment he considered attacking the soldiers following them, but decided against it just as soon as that thought had crossed his mind. There was no sense in further bloodshed, and besides, though he acted as catalyst, someone else had to lead that uprising. Mahel Sivaraya, for preference, Luzaya Dan, if all else failed. Those were the two candidates and no one else qualified. Hopefully, they were right now doing exactly what he expected them to.

None of the chaos he had expected was apparent inside the fortress as he was briskly led along a number of nondescript hallways, but then, Mahel would not have expected anything less. "What is going on?" he asked, as politely as he could.

The Twi'lek guard did not answer. "In there," she ordered suddenly and pushed a combination of buttons on the lockpad on the outside of what Mahel only now recognised as a holding cell. Realising that she and her companions meant to imprison him he balked at first, but then reminded himself that was exactly what would have happened anyway. "Don't do anything foolish now," she muttered, sensing him hesitate when the door opened. "We will explain as soon as we can," she assured him at last, then handed her weapon over to one of her companions. Then the two of them entered the cell. "You won't be staying in here for long, only until General Page has questioned you. Place your hands here, please," she continued, and pointed at what looked like hand-cuffs. Still reluctant, Mahel complied and set his jaw grimly, once the iron shut around his wrists. There was no going back now. "Thank you for your co-operation, I will see to you later," the Twi'lek told him at last, then he was left alone. Except for his own breathing the holding cell was incredibly quiet. No sound at all. Artificial light, artificial walls, everything was dead around him. He felt uncomfortable, almost claustrophobic. This was all so very different from what he was accustomed to. But not to be lamented. So he resolved to be patient a little longer, and wait.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the lock in the door click open behind him, but he was instantly alert. "Please, no need to try to turn around," an unfamiliar, male voice asked, when Mahel craned his neck to see who had come to pay a visit. "There is a screen in front of you – ah, yes," the man continued when a section of the wall indeed lit up right in front of Mahel's eyes. "Can you see me now?" Mahel nodded, once the image of the man standing behind him became clearer. "My name is Telmann Page. Will you give me your name?"

"Mahel Sivaraya," the young warrior replied instantly.

He saw the general nod. "Yes I thought so. My people say you were on your way to the headquarters when the explosion took place. Why?"

"To give myself up to you."

Page did not appear to be surprised. "Is that so? I wonder why? Did you know that everyone's looking for you concerning the princess' disappearance?"

Mahel nodded. "Yes. But she is safe. There was no kidnapping. This is why I am here, to tell you that."

"Or else to clear the Council of all suspicions. You could have her hidden away somewhere, as your prisoner, you know?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Why indeed. Did you know that we intercepted a message just shortly before the explosion took place? No, of course not, how could you?"

"What message?" Mahel asked, bewildered.

"Addressed to one Lomin Domain Carr." The Yuuzhan Vong stiffened at that. Who would use that name? But Telmann Page continued, "Do you have any idea why someone would send such a message?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Do you know someone named Lomin Domain Carr?" the general pressed on.

"That was my name. Before I joined the Cor'dan's congregation." Truth, only that will save you, Anakin Skywalker had told him. Mahel dearly hoped that was still true.

"That is the name of Marayl Carr's son," Page corrected him. "Are you that Lomin Domain Carr then?"

"I am. What was that message?"

"It concerned the success of this attack. You were to report back to Byss."

"You know this is a ruse, don't you?" Mahel asked, but Page did not answer. He turned around to leave without another word. Fear slipped into Mahels mind and nested in his heart then. What was going on? They could hold him here forever and never tell him anything. And Andarack would never be able to reach him, no matter what! "Wait!" he called out, just as the door opened in front of the general. It was strange to converse with someone standing behind him via a screen before him, it made his head spin, nevertheless he continued, "What was that explosion?"

"A bomb, apparently, set into an empty meeting room in the senatorial wing of the former Imperial Palace," Page replied calmly.

"Was anyone injured?""

"Fifteen people died. Among them the senators of Kashyyk and Bothawui. We shall see how the Senate will take this. Those two were very fervent in placing the blame for this conflict on Empress Yana Dar. Did you know that?"

Mahel gave a helpless shrug. "I have no concept of the proceedings of the New Republic Senate, General Page. And I have not been keeping up with political goings-on in the past week."

"Of course," Page nodded. "Yet someone obviously did. You know what this will entail?"

"They will blame the Council."

"Indeed. One of their agents has been spotted here, on Coruscant, and I am not certain whether even Mon Mothma or Bred Antham are aware of his presence. He is also a Sith Lord. Do you know him, perhaps?"

"You are referring to Andarack clan Rim'kai."

Telmann Page smiled. "Yes. A clever warrior, a dangerous opponent. He is an agent of the Council but also loyal to Byss, and the Cor'dan. We cannot be certain what his mission is on Coruscant. But my people have orders to neutralise that possible threat, should it become apparent that he was involved in this bombing. Rest assured that we have the resources to keep track of him ,and to hold him, if necessary. He will not escape us."

To that Mahel did not answer. He doubted very strongly, that Andarack would let himself get caught so easily. Besides, what if the Noghri had allowed himself to be seen? But to what purpose? He was one of the Council's agents, true, but he was also the Cor'dan's trusted ally. And Page also was right to ask what was his function in this particular affair. But there was something else that disturbed him. "Why do you believe I could answer any of those questions?" Mahel asked softly. "Why do you believe I could know the Cor'dan's intentions?

Page nodded in acknowledgement. "You are observant. You see, thanks to our own sources on Byss we know that you, too, are one of Naas Deron's agents. You are part of his congregation, are you not?"

"And that makes me a spy?"

"No," the general shook his head, "but who you are makes you a special asset that Naas Deron would not hesitate to use for his ends."

Mahel was speechless. Why was everyone only thinking the worst of the Cor'dan? Had they felt the same about Anakin Skywalker? Somehow he doubted it. But what had Naas Deron done in the past that justified this distrust now? Angry, he replied, "And would you not do the same, in his place? Who are you that you can claim not to use people for your own ends?"

Telmann Page sighed. "We all do, true. But Naas Deron –"

"There is no difference between the two of you," the Yuuzhan Vong warrior said harshly.

"As you wish," the man conceded at last and nodded gravely. "I will not dispute religion with you."

"You said that message to Lomin Carr ordered him to report back to Byss. You believe this to be the truth?"

"You asked that already."

"And you failed to answer."

The general cocked his head to the side and looked at him interestedly. "Tell me, Mahel Sivaraya, who are you that you have such confidence even as your enemies' prisoner? What makes you believe you can question my motives?"

Incredulity made Mahel's features slip for just a moment, before he laughed out loud. "Are you serious?" he growled in response. "Now that you have judged me you demand I succumb to your accusations myself and forsake the truth? I am guilty, you say, but what of, you are not even sure, is that not so? The hypocrisy of that I need not point out to you, you are an intelligent being. But, perhaps, you need a reminder of what it is like to live by truth alone."

"You sound like Lord Skywalker, you know?"

"I do," Mahel nodded. He could tell that he had got Page thinking. The man was obviously embarrassed. And Mahel felt elated. He had scored a victory in this dispute, that he was certain of. No matter that he had lost his freedom, he could still affect something. Truth, as Lord Skywalker had told him, was to be his weapon. Now he knew, how powerful it could be.

TBC


	21. Ally

**Chapter 19**

"Any news from Coruscant?" Al'than'erudo asked as calmly as he could, but in truth he was extremely worried over a number of things, including the fact that the Emperor Ja'han'mandana had reportedly taken over the operation. And since he hated being out of touch, he had contacted Andarack, relying on the technical finesse of Karrde's organisation to ensure a secure holo-feed. And Al'than'erudo had not expected the usually so composed warrior to appear so upset.

"No news," Andarack clan Rim'kai growled. "Apart from what we already knew from Ja'han'mandana. I have followed Mahel Sivaraya as far as the NRI headquarters and I am certain he has succumbed to the emperor's wishes and given himself up. The NRI is trying to keep an eye on me too, but while I let them have a small victory by allowing them to catch a glimpse of me, I won't be able to keep that game up for long. I have to be careful. There are enemies out here."

"A threat to you, Andarack?" the Chiss inquired politely. He did not want to put the warrior off by belittling his abilities. And though he doubted anyone could best Andarack in battle, it never hurt to have this thought confirmed.

As expected, the Noghri shook his head, but the next moment he raised his right hand to his brow and uttered a soft moan. "It is not them I fear," he confessed.

"What happened?"

"I tried to contact the Cor'dan, but he blocked me from his mind. The backlash was quite vicious."

"Then he is busy?"

"Apparently so."

Al'than'erudo took a deep breath. "We have to be very careful now. Nothing is clear. Of course, the Council can exist as an organisation apart from any government, but that is not what we want. We need the trust of the Republic, and the Empire. Else, I fear, they will turn against us."

"They already have, Al'than'erudo. You have heard the senators. They believe Jiliha. They want to believe her, because they are still afraid of us, of Lord Skywalker, of Naas Deron. Weary of having a conscience nagging at the back of their minds. You understand?"

"Very philosophical. So what to do? Withdraw from politics? Lead a normal life? Be something else from what we are? You for one could not do that and neither could I," Al'than'erudo reminded him.

Andarack shook his head. "No. What we need is a lesson. Unfortunately, I have no idea who could implement that lesson."

"I knew someone once," Al'than'erudo offered with a shrug. "But he would be prime suspect, would he not?"

"You are referring to Skywalker?" The Noghri mustered a vicious grin. "I was actually thinking of someone else."

The head of the Council needed a moment to digest this suggestion. He knew that someone too, of course, and he was aware of the knowledge that slumbered within the entrails of the Seeker interface. But – "Too risky," he stated at last. "Especially considering that it were his past actions that sparked this discussion anew. The Senate was outraged at the news of what took place on N'zoth, and our enemies will use that sentiment in their favour."

Andarack did not answer at first and for a moment Al'than'erudo felt uncertain. The Noghri Sith Lord appeared suddenly more distant than before and there was something dark in his large eyes, something elusive. A secret? Suddenly he leaned forward and the Chiss instinctively took a step back, so intense was this gesture. "Al'than'erudo, do you have any idea what it means to be always hunted, to be always feared? You don't. None on the Council do, except for Lord Skywalker and his wife. I have no home, no family. I have only my dedication to the Sith and their beliefs. I will not – and that I truly mean – will not deny who and what I am. Neither will Naas Deron."

Swallowing slowly, Al'than'erudo thought about what to reply. "A lesson will not gain us anything, it did not gain us freedom the last time either," he reminded his counterpart at last.

"No," Andarack agreed sharply. "That is true. But there are things in the making that will change this galaxy forever, just as Lord Kell has foreseen. His dream will come true, Al'than'erudo. The Sith will rule again."

Shocked, the Chiss replied with a frown, "I do not see how, and I do not see how a lesson will bring that change about. And I strongly doubt the Republic or the Chiss Empire would allow the Sith to rise again."

"I did not say they would rule the galaxy," Andarack said dismissively. "But they will rule the Sith Empire, once it is reunited."

"If the Yuuzhan Vong agree."

"They will, believe me."

"What makes you so certain?"

Andarack sighed. "Belief is the key, and Naas Deron has diligently sown the seeds of his own belief across the Empire. It may not be so apparent on Byss, but elsewhere it thrives. But that is not everything. As I said, a lesson is needed, and –"

The sound of the door opening behind Al'than'erudo made both of them pause. Turning around, the Chiss frowned at the newcomer, but quickly realised that the woman who had appeared in the doorway carried an urgent message. "What is it?" he asked gently.

"Al'than'erudo," Marianna Selvik, his secretary, began, "We have news from Nuron Sarin-Skywalker. She and her son are returning just now to Naboo, along with the Solo twins."

Elated, Al'than'erudo turned back toward Andarack with a happy smile. "That is good news, I say."

"Call me again, once they have made their report," the Noghri simply replied, then broke the connection.

Al'than'erudo nodded, then asked, "Marianna, could you please send Master Sarin-Skywalker and her companions to see me once they have landed? Thank you."

"As you wish, Al'than'erudo," she replied and hurried out.

The Chiss stood silent for a moment, then moved across his office toward the desk. He was the only Council member present on Naboo right now, with Mon Mothma and Bred Antham on Coruscant, and both Ishare Luvo and Mith'raw'noruodo in Chiss space. But he felt that he could not deal with this situation on his own. He needed someone to discuss his next moves with, and only one name came to mind: Padmé Amidala Skywalker. He would ask her to join him in Theed, immediately.

"Where is my blue dress"? Padmé cried out even as she sorted through her wardrobe. "It's not here, Anja!"

Her friend and assistant appeared in the doorway and crossed her arms across her chest. "Padmé, it is not as if you need to dress up for Al'than'erudo. Or your family."

The former senator hung her head and smiled. "You are right, of course. I'll just wear that dark suit, how about that?"

"Good idea. How about you get dressed while I go and fetch Amerie?"

"Yes, do that. Thank you. She will be so happy to see her mother and brother again." And I will be glad to have Jacen and Jaina with me, she thought. They had not heard anything from Anakin or Leia and Han for days, ever since that unfortunate incident on Coruscant. The media claimed the bomb that had killed fifteen people had been laid by one Lomin Domain Carr, but there had been no official statement on the incident yet. Padmé had been worried sick over her daughter's fate, fearing that Leia might have been caught in the backlash of the explosion, only to learn that both she and her husband had left Coruscant along with Anakin in a highly illegal fashion. Which had also been part of the media coverage. Why had Leia allowed her father to get himself in such a predicament? The fact that the Millennium Falcon had ignored orders issued both by ground control and by the ships patrolling the perimeter around Coruscant threw a light of suspicion on the Council as well as the former Dark Lord. Which was also Anakin's fault, he should have known what consequences this flight would entail. And still he had decided to rather risk suspicion than stay on Coruscant. Why? Because he feared that they would be stranded on the capital world while their enemies had free reign to plot their downfall? Possibly. But he should also have realised that the Council's position was such that an exception could have been made for them. Except – except if the Council itself were to be framed for the attack in any case. She knew, of course, what the discussion about Roj Kell's horrendous deeds on N'zoth and the recording from the incident on Korriban, which had involved both Jacen and Jaina, meant. Someone was trying to convince the New Republic that it was better off without the Council and without the Sith Empire. But could the Republic safely take on both? Not really. The Chiss Empire would not stand for it, and that was a very powerful player indeed. Ja'han'mandana was a pragmatic. He benefited both from the Council and the Sith Empire. So whatever their unknown adversaries were planning, they also had to have taken that fact into consideration. Padmé though could see no way the Chiss could be blamed for anything that was happening right now. Not directly, that was. And then a thought struck her: Thrawn and Ishare Luvo, Anakin's allies from twenty years ago, were assembling a fleet in Chiss territory. An open provocation, if ever the New Republic learned that it was being created to detain Republic forces, should their commanders decide to move against Byss. And if that happened, there would be war once more. Dazed by the thought, Padmé had to sit herself down on the edge of the bed.

"Padmé?" It was Anja, who had come back, with Amerie held securely in her arms. "What is it? You look terrible."

"Oh," she mustered a weak protest, "is that so? Perhaps I should not have chosen this dark colour after all."

"It looks good on you," her friend assured her gently. "Let's get moving, all right? Al'than'erudo and the others are waiting for us."

"Yes," Padmé answered after a moment's hesitation. "We really need to talk to them." Rising from her seat she walked over to brush a hand through her grand-daughter's thick hair. Amerie smiled at her beautifully and at once Padmé's sad mood was blown away. "Will you prepare the speeder?" she asked Anja, who nodded and set Amerie down on the floor. Padmé gently took the girl's hand in hers and slowly led her along the corridor, toward the door. "Amerie, dear, no dreams of late?" she asked. "No more dreams of the bone queen and the boy?"

"No, none," the girl piped up.

"You haven't seen the boy again either, have you?"

Amerie only shook her head, but there was a faraway look in her golden eyes that made Padmé wonder. "Is Mama all right? And Khammy?" the girl asked suddenly.

"Hm? Yes, I believe they are," Padmé replied as gently as she could.

An hour later the trio was on its way to Al'than'erudo's office. An informal meeting then, for which Padmé was glad. She would have hated having to meet her daughter-in-law and her grand-children in the stately but cool atmosphere of the Council Chamber. Amerie still clung to her hand and was gazing in wonder at all the sights surrounding her. She had been to Theed before, of course, but she had been but a baby back then. Their steps reverberated from the tall ceiling, it was so quiet, and Padmé felt acutely reminded of the fact that she and Al'than'erudo were the only ones present from the Council. Not a thought she cherished right now. Suddenly Amerie freed herself from her grandmother's gentle grasp and her small shoes pattered across the polished floor as she dove for the slender boy who had just appeared in the far doorway down the hall. "Khammy!" she yelled, her voice soaring high like the trill of a bird's song. Padmé laughed out loud at her enthusiasm. And Khameir surely would not let his little sister best him on that. He ran toward her with a huge grin on his beautiful face and his blue eyes sparkled with pure joy when he embraced his sister and pressed her close to his chest. "Hey, sweet-heart!" he murmured as Padmé and Anja joined the siblings. "I've missed you."

"I am glad you're back," Amerie replied earnestly.

"Grandmother! "

Padmé looked up from the pretty tableau to smile at Jacen and Jaina, who were coming toward them just now, Nuron and Al'than'erudo in tow. The former Counsellor could tell that the Chiss was not overly thrilled by the fact that she had brought Amerie along. "A good day to you, Padmé," he said nevertheless, gracious as ever. "I was just telling Master Sarin-Skywalker that I wanted to wait for you to join us, before we begin. Perhaps, Anja, you could take Amerie for a walk in the gardens? The weather is too fine for a little girl to spend hours in a dusty office, am I right?"

"Of course," Padmé replied calmly. "Anja, would you please wait for us outside?" But when her friend made as if to take Amerie from Khameir's arms Padmé put a hand on her elbow and shook her head. "Amerie will stay."

Nodding, Anja retreated without another word, then Padmé swept past the sour-looking Chiss into the office that had once been her own. The others followed her somewhat sheepishly, but she could not care less. She noticed very well that Amerie clung to her brother with a triumphant smirk on her face.

"Let us all take a seat," Al'than'erudo suggested, calm as ever. "Please." He waited until everyone had followed that request, then took a place behind his desk. "Now, first of all I want to express my great relief at seeing you all back safe and unharmed. You have been out of touch, so I will summarise what has happened out here so far. As you know, I had sent Lord Skywalker, Mon Mothma and Bred Antham to Coruscant to present our findings concerning the translation of the message found on N'zoth, but unfortunately the Republic Senate had little interest in hearing our story. Instead it not so subtly accused the Council of interfering on behalf of the Sith Empire. Then the news came in from Byss that Empress Yana Dar has been suspending civil rights for the Yuuzhan Vong populace, and just before you came in I received news that Yana Dar has died in a supposed attack on the Citadel on Byss." He paused, to let this sink in, and Padmé felt her mind go blank. She heard Nuron bite out a vicious, angry curse, and a disbelieving gasp from the twins.

"No!" It was Jacen, who jumped up from his seat, his face drained of all colour. "No! That cannot be! Naas Deron would never allow that to happen! This is a ruse, is it not?"

"If it were, it would be a very stupid one," Al'than'erudo commented in a low growl. "No, I fear this is the truth. Counsellor Jiliha n'Averone has reportedly taken over the government."

"What about Franzis?" Nuron asked then. "Any news of him?"

The Chiss shook his head. "No news. And as far as I can tell we won't get any confirmation for the time being either. Naas Deron is unavailable. He hurt Andarack, when he tried to contact him. But," the Chiss continued, "the empress' death is no news to us. Lord Skywalker has already warned us that this would happen. The Seeker predicted just that. And I dare say that Naas Deron knew of this occurrence beforehand. Else he would not have asked Yana to send her daughter abroad."

Padmé nodded gravely. "Yet I confess that I hoped this could be averted," she replied, her tone as sad as she felt. "Poor Luzaya. I pity her."

"We all do, I am sure," Al'than'erudo retorted somewhat harshly. "But we have a responsibility to the future. The Council's position is precarious, for many reasons. There has been an attack on the Senate during which fifteen people died and prime suspect is one Lomin Domain Carr. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior the Senate saw you, Jacen and Jaina, slay on Korriban. They might now suspect this to have been a diversion, to make the Republic believe he was dead, while he was on Coruscant plotting this attack. Your grandfather and his associates tried to disperse that suspicion by proving that it was not Mahel Sivaraya who died on Korriban, but they were unconvincing. Therefore Emperor Ja'han'mandana has asked Mahel Sivaraya himself to surrender to the New Republic, to clear up that misunderstanding at least."

"Mahel would never leave Luzaya's side," Jacen protested. "Where are they now?"

"Ja'han'mandana had sent his own agents to Bakura at the same time you found yourself there. Two agents you know, Jix and Mara. They took Mahel and Luzaya to Coruscant and are now escorting the princess to Csilla, where she will be safe. The fact, though, that the New Republic government has not yet cleared up the misunderstanding surrounding Mahel, despite their having him in custody, is disturbing."

"Telmann Page is not available," Padmé reported then. "He could not be part of the conspiracy, could he?"

"Perhaps he simply does not know who to trust himself either," Khameir suggested hen.

"And maybe he needs further proof to convince himself he can believe the council," his mother added. "Proof that we have brought back from Ordesha." With these words she rose and took a recorder out of the inside pocket of her jacket. "This, Al'than'erudo, is a recording of the confession made by Anteres Plawal on Ordesha in which he confirms that there is a conspiracy out to destroy the Sith, and the Council." Padmé saw the irritation on her feline face when the Chiss did not react and she almost pitied her daughter-in-law. "What?" Nuron demanded, impatient. "Do you think this is no good?"

Al'than'erudo sighed. "A confession is all very well, but can you prove this is not just a fake? A fake that is supposed to prove the Council's innocence?"

"There were witnesses too," Nuron tried, "though you are right, they will deny any involvement. Still, I believe Telmann Page should have this. He can begin investigating and uncover more proof. Everything he needs."

"Yes," Al'than'erudo agreed with a nod. "Thank you. I will give it to him when I see him on Coruscant."  
"You are going to Coruscant?" Padmé asked, aghast. This she had not expected.

"The Council must not be seen hiding from these accusations. I must be there to defend our stance. And do it well," he added with a crooked smile. "Too much is at stake."

Suddenly Jacen raised a hand. "There is something else," he said. "Something we witnessed on Ordesha."

"And what was that?"

"The beginning of the Jedi's destruction, the genocide committed against the Jen-People on Os'jen'thana."

"Oh?" Al'than'erudo interestedly cocked his head to one side. "Tell me more."

Jacen took a deep breath. "It all began with our leaving Bakura with Alowyn Kattaran, the NRI agent we first me aboard the Freedom," he began. "Kattaran was acting strangely, and he was the one who took us to Korriban. Only there did we realise that he was actually Yuuzhan Vong. Don't you see? This conspiracy is not only restricted to the New Republic. The Yuuzhan Vong have a stake in it too."

"I see," the Chiss said noncommittally, but a worried frown appeared on his forehead. "This is valuable information indeed. Continue, please."

Jacen closed his eyes, as if to concentrate, then nodded. "All right. We were rescued by the apparition of a little boy, Liyuma, who took us to Ordesha. I do not know how he did that, but we were in one place one moment and at another place the next one. On Os'jen'thana, at the time the Jedi came there to destroy the Sith supposedly hiding there."

"Impossible," Al'than'erudo snapped, but Jacen shook his head in denial. "No, sir, this is the truth. We tried to get the Jedi to see the truth and prevent the Jen from being slaughtered, but we had no chance. The past cannot be altered, we had to learn that the hard way, but we managed to change the hearts of these Jedi, at least I hope we did. In that we proved that it could have been different. This sounds strange, I know, but Khameir and Aunt Nuron can confirm this."

"Yes," the Zabrak agreed. "This is true. Khameir and I ventured to a cave which was of great religious value to the Jen, obviously. There we met the spirit of Alda Magor, former Cor'dan of the Jen, and she asked my son to perform a service for her, for her own offspring."

"Liyuma," Padmé breathed enthralled by that tale.

"Yes. Liyuma." Nuron smiled at her own son then, and urged him with a nod to continue the tale. Khameir hesitated, but then he, too, stood, just like Jacen, and said, "All of this is not easy to believe, I know that, but such is magic. What I found was that indeed the past could not be altered, but that apparently small deeds can mean the downfall of a noble order. The Jedi did not know what they were doing on Os'jen'thana, and how that would affect them in the future. The same is happening now. The New Republic and some citizens of the Sith Empire still cling to their past views of the Sith and mean to get rid of them forever. I understand their fear, but it is that fear we need to fight. We have to show them that the Council, and the Sith Empire, are no threat to them, that we mean no harm. But we cannot simply vanish from the face of this galaxy either."

"Trust is what they need," Al'than'erudo agreed. "But how to give them that? A lot of these people remember Anakin Skywalker as Darth Vader, all of them remember Palpatine's rule. The time has not come yet."

"It will never come, if we do not actively seize the moment and shape the future," Khameir stated then.

The silence that followed those words was thick and hard, like permacrete, and Padmé found it difficult to find her breath again. But Al'than'erudo beat her to an outraged reply. "What you are suggesting, young man, is exactly what we need to avoid. Do you realize that?"

"No." Khameir shook his head. "We have to stand up for ourselves."

"And risk our deaths? This is exactly what they want to make of us. Tyrants, Khameir."

"Tyrants?" the young man replied bitterly. "Savage Yuuzhan Vong like Mahel Sivaraya, despots like Yana Dar? They are being stripped of their true identity, don't you see? And the same will happen to us, if we do not make it very clear what and who we are."

"And who and what would that be?" the Chiss challenged him coldly.

"Guardians, Al'than'erudo. Just that."

The Chiss was silent for a moment, then he said, "Young man, I think you and I have to have a private talk. Now."

Khameir simply nodded.

Once the others had all left, Khameir was suddenly uncertain whether he had done the right thing. But he had done what was required of him, had he not? They had nothing to hide.

"Khameir."  
"Yes?" Nervous, he whirled around to look up at the tall Chiss.

"Khameir," Al'than'erudo began calmly, "I appreciate your commitment to the Sith tradition. But surely you have learned form your father, most of all, that the Jedi, as guardians, are restricted by their own rules."

He nodded. "Of course. But in the past the Jedi have been leaders, politicians, they were respected throughout the galaxy. Why can't we return to that?"

"Because there are no Jedi left."

"Only Sith?"

"Yes. That is what the people see. They see Darth Vader as a free man, unpunished for deeds too horrible to forget. He was the one who helped destroy the Jedi, Khameir, you know that. Why can't you understand that people are uneasy with the fact that the early Republic government excused his past deeds with what he did to free the galaxy from Palpatine's grasp. All of his sacrifices, all that cannot be recognised. Not yet."

"It never will be, if we do not change people's views of the Sith, don't you agree?"

"And who would you point out as example of what the Sith are today, Khameir? Naas Deron?" Al'than'erudo angrily shook his head. "That man is so cold that even I am afraid of what he might be capable of doing if things don't go his way. And Andarack? Andarack is honourable and smart, but he is a killer, always was. Then who is left?"

"Yana Dar was a fine ruler," Khameir suggested firmly.

"She is dead, boy."

"Chi'in clan Rim'kai and my grandfather are not bad either."

"We already discussed your grandfather. And Chi'in is the wisest being I know, but he did not come forward to reclaim the past when he could have. He always remained second to Anakin, second to the Empress, even as Dark Lord. No one knows just how valuable he was in bringing that war to an end. Without Chi'in, the Emperor would still rule." Frowning, Al'than'erudo came closer and gently took Khameir's face in his hands. "Khameir, what happened to you on Ordesha? Why are you so angry now? What is it that is bothering you? Have you seen something? Then tell me, for I can certainly use any help I can get. And that I do not confess lightly. I am going to leave for Coruscant today, knowing full well that I must rely on you, on your grandparents, your parents, all my allies, to back me up. But we must face our fears to succeed. Is that what you are trying to tell me?"

Khameir was shocked by that outburst coming from the usually so cool Chiss. But nevertheless he said, "I believe we have the means and the allies to change something. Mahel Sivaraya, for one, and Luzaya Dan. They will turn the tide, I know it!"

"If they survive this crisis, Khameir."

"They will survive."

"What happened on Ordesha, Khameir? Tell me. Please."

Khameir took a deep breath. "Do you believe in second chances, Al'than'erudo?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Liyuma was there, he was real, Al'than'erudo. He killed Anteres Plawal for his foolishness, the way he would have done had he been his alter ego, and I did not prevent it. I let it happen. Because it was right."

"That is murder, Khameir," Al'than'erudo gasped, truly shocked. "You should not have let him do that!"

"I could not have prevented it," the boy replied with a shake of his head. "He did not care for what I thought, all he cared for was his own judgement. And what he saw in Plawal was a liar, a deceitful creature that sought to destroy the Yuuzhan Vong once and for all, millions of innocents, just for one reason: because Yana Dar had given them a home. Because she had had the grace to see beyond their ruler's villainess and welcomed them back into the community where they belonged. Because, Al'than'erudo, this man, Anteres Plawal, was jealous of her generosity, something he himself lacked. That is the entire reason for this conspiracy, Al'than'erudo. They are jealous, and they want to hide the fact that they themselves are greedy, selfish and totally lack any respect for life. They do not want anyone watching over what is right or wrong, all they want is a government that acts in their financial interest, a government that satisfies their foolish desire for vengeance. They cannot bear the thought of their own impurity."

"You cannot purify their souls," Al'than'erudo grated out, his voice choked by anger. "Who do you think you are, boy? Who do you think you are, that you can elevate your views above everyone else's?"

"Not everyone, Al'than'erudo. Don't you see? All I want is to set an example for all those people who can show forgiveness, who are generous at heart, who want that security of having someone watching over them."

The Chiss closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. "You are an idealist, just like your father. But real life doesn't work that way. People are selfish, they are greedy. You won't change that."

Khameir felt his lips peel back in a mirthless smile when he replied, "Then let us seize the moment, Al'than'erudo, and show this galaxy what it truly means to live in anarchy."

For a long moment only silence reigned. Al'than'erudo's glowing red eyes stared at him in open astonishment, and Khameir could tell that the tall alien's mind was racing with an effort to understand whether or not he had truly meant that. "You are very clever, Khameir," he said at last. "One could almost believe that you have just recently attended the Roj Kell School of Cunning Arguments."

Khameir laughed at that. "Perhaps I have," he answered with a grin. "Will you bring that argument to Coruscant?"

With a sigh Al'than'erudo relaxed and nodded. "I will."

"Everything all right?" Padmé asked in some concern when the door to Al'than'erudo's office opened to admit Khameir. The boy nodded and went down on his haunches with a smile to embrace his sister once again. Over his head, Padmé noticed Al'than'erudo gazing at her. On impulse, she walked over to join him in his office. He closed the door behind them slowly. "What was going on in here?"

"The question is, what is going on with your grand-son? He has changed, that much is clear."

She nodded. "Yes, I fear so. Nuron told me a few other things while the two of your were busy. According to her, Alda Magor's spirit had been bound to that cave by her son's power, to await the arrival of a Jedi and show them what occurred on Ordesha all those millennia ago. The same seems to be true of Liyuma, but he seems to be real, no spirit. Which is impossible."

"Khameir was talking of second chances. I believe he might have meant that Roj Kell was given a second chance. Which would go contrary to what your son uncovered on N'zoth."

"Would it? This is not the Roj Kell we know, this is a little boy who is acting on his instincts and by the rules of his dead people."

"I am almost afraid to ask where he has vanished to."

Padmé shrugged. "Actually, he is here."

"What!" He took a step back. "Where?"

"On board the Morning Glory, Nuron tells me, fast asleep."

He closed his eyes with a low groan. "Oh, my stars, Just what we need now."

"You will want to see him?"

Al'than'erudo turned away, but nodded. "I guess, yes." He heaved a deep breath. "But first we will need to speak to Mith'raw'noruodo and Ishare Luvo to inform them of the most recent happenings."

Padmé nodded in agreement, then settled down on the chair she had previously occupied, waiting for Al'than'erudo to establish a holo-feed to the Council fleet in Chiss space. It took a while and Padmé used that opportunity to let her mind wander. Nuron had seemed so very calm when speaking about Liyuma, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have her fiercest enemy return to the living in the shape of an innocent child. But the Zabrak seemed convinced that this was exactly what Roj Kell had meant in his confession by claiming that what had been given, would not be returned. When becoming Cor'dan, he had given up his life, part of his own self, Padmé realised. He had sacrificed three thousand years for his role as Cor'dan, was it not only fair, that he sought to reclaim part of that by returning now? Or was this something else entirely? Sudden doubts flashed through her mind. What if this child was not who it appeared to be? For some reason she had to think of Irek, Roj Kell's son. Could it not have been just as easy to clone the man himself? Of course, any clone of his would be older than eight years. Should be.

"Padmé?"

Her thoughts disappeared into reality when she stood to join Al'than'erudo. "We are online?"

"Yes, my lady," Thrawn replied in his usual, smooth manner as his image flashed into existence. Beside him, Ishare Luvo appeared in full battle armour. "Greetings, my lady," he grated out cheerfully. "And greetings to you too, Al'than'erudo."

"Thank you," the Chiss nodded with a smile. "How are you progressing?"

"Well," Mith'raw'noruodo answered. "We have the vectors for every possible approach, now we prepare the battle-groups for alternate attack and defence patterns. A successful manoeuvre, so far."

"I am glad to hear it. But we have urgent news for you."

"Urgent news?" Ishare Luvo seemed more annoyed than surprised. "What news?"

"The Council will soon face a few charges concerning Roj Kell's legacy on N'zoth. I am leaving for Coruscant today to defend our stance."

"Alone?" Thrawn inquired suspiciously. "I hope not."

"Andarack is already on planet. And Mahel Sivaraya will be there also."

The older Chiss gave a thoughtful nod. "A useful ally and asset. Anything else? Have the twins returned?"

"They have," Padmé reported, "and they have brought back trouble, namely a boy named Liyuma. You know who I am talking about."

"Impossible." That was Ishare Luvo, whose lips peeled back to reveal his sharp teeth. "That cannot be."

"He is right," Thrawn conceded. "I, too, find this hard to believe."

Padmé threw Al'than'erudo a troubled glance, saw, that he was unsure of what to answer, since he had not met the boy himself yet, but the former Counsellor gathered her courage quickly and said, "A thought came to me just a few minutes ago, concerning the appearance of the boy. Although he appears to share quite a few memories with the real Liyuma, I am concerned over the fact that the conspiracy we are faced with consists not only of New Republic citizens, but also of subjects of the Sith Empress, among them Yuuzhan Vong."

"You are thinking of the shapers," Thrawn finished her thought. "This coincides with something the Emperor has spotted on Laa'kuan. Someone has been snooping around Roj Kell's grave."

"Could this – boy," she hesitated to call Liyuma that, "have been grown, then?"

"It is certainly a possibility," the Chiss commander confirmed. "Al'than'erudo, can you verify this? Your healing skills should allow you to spot any genetic anomaly," he added.

The Head of the Council nodded gravely. "The boy is in our custody and I will study him, before I leave for Coruscant. The question remains in any case: what to do with him? If he is what we all fear he is, our nemesis come back from the grave, should we deal with him as we would have, had he survived the last war? And if he is something else, how can we use him to track his creators down and confront them?"

It was Thrawn who answered first, not surprisingly. His glowing eyes were unfathomable when he said, "Had he survived the war he would have been tried for his many crimes, starting with genocide of the Yevetha. You realize the problem? We are being given the solution to our dilemma, just like that. We could present the guilty party to the Senate and wash our hands clean of any accusations concerning our failure to prevent that genocide. The easy way out. This confirms what we fear, does it not? Just like Roj Kell to make such a deceptive offer, to test our ideals. Can we sacrifice that child in good conscience? I will want to speak to him, Al'than'erudo. Have him brought to me. And keep us posted on the latest developments on Coruscant, once you're there. Padmé," he concluded with a nod, "keep well."

"Wait!" she called out, when he moved to cut the transmission. He waited in polite silence, until she continued, "I fear that there is even more to this conspiracy. Should it be revealed to the New Republic that the Council is indeed taking sides and assembling a fleet to protect the Chiss or the Sith Empire against New Republic military interference our enemies will have all the evidence they need to justify actions against us."

Ishare Luvo bellowed a ferocious laugh. "An intriguing thought," he growled, "but how should they become aware of it? These channels are secure, and the Chiss won't betray us."

"It never hurts to be cautious," Thrawn admonished him quietly. "And that we will be. I am going to speak to the Emperor and there will be some changes in command. Ishare Luvo and I will never have been here, you see? This will have to suffice, for now. We will keep you posted on what is happening out here."

With that he did end the transmission and only the image of Ishare Luvo remained. The Lappa gazed at Al'than'erudo and Padmé in silence for a long moment, then he nodded and said, "I understand your concern, we both do, but we have to contend with the political schemes launched against us from Coruscant and Byss, as well as find out what exactly has been happening out here in the Unknown Regions. Your son, Padmé, is investigating those happenings. The Chiss have noticed that someone has obviously disturbed Roj Kell's grave on Laa'kuan. There is something growing out there. Something powerful. We fear that the Sith are behind this, namely Naas Deron. Therefore it is imperative that your son finishes his mission quickly and travels on to Byss. Therefore we will be needing someone else to assist us in this investigation. The Syndic suggested sending Master Sarin-Skywalker, since all of our other Sith agents are tied up elsewhere. Will you ask her to come?"

For some reason Padmé found herself thinking not of Nuron but Khameir. This was where he should be, she could feel it in her bones. "I will tell her," she agreed at last. "And when you say that all of our Sith agents are tied up in other assignments I assume you know where my husband and my daughter are headed?"

"They will be joining the Emperor at Almashin to speak to Luzaya Dan, once she arrives here."

Padmé heaved a sigh of relief. "That is good news. Thank you. And we will keep you informed. I am looking forward to seeing both of you in person again soon, Ishare Luvo."

He smiled at her, then nodded. "We will see each other again."

Then the transmission ended, leaving Al'than'erudo and Padmé very thoughtful.

"They are taking control over events out of our hands;" the Chiss commented quietly, prompting Padmé to answer, without thinking, "Were we in control? I had not noticed." She saw him turn his head out of the corner of her eye and blushed a fiery red. "I am sorry," she hastened to assure him, but he merely sighed, then said, "No, you are quite right. We are not in control. Someone else is and I really want to know who that is."

Jaina was watching her cousin cautiously, wondering what was so different about him. The lanky youth was bent over the small boy who lay curled up in a comfortable ball of deepest sleep in one of the bunks aboard the Morning Glory and appeared extremely thoughtful. Jaina understood that Khameir had somehow bonded with that boy, Liyuma, back on Ordesha and for some reason that made her feel slightly jealous. Had it not been she who had first encountered the child, the first who had recognized his true identity? And still he had chosen another protector. For protector Khameir was, a guardian. What had Alda Magor called him? Naghasan Khameir Sarin-Skywalker. Sighing, Jaina crossed her arms in front of her chest and turned her head to gaze across the rec area into the cockpit, where her aunt Nuron was busy studying star charts. She had no idea what the Zabrak was looking for, but at the same time she could not bring herself to walking over and asking her. Jacen was busy too, trying to raise any signal from the Millennium falcon. His sister could tell by the frustration she felt from him that he was not succeeding. Which was frightening. They had no idea where their parents had vanished to. Which made her duck her head guiltily at the thought of what Luzaya Dan had lost. She pitied the princess very much, she herself could not imagine what she would do if her parents perished. Sure, she knew that someday that would be inevitable, but she did not want to think about their mortality, not now. Then the sound of footsteps on the extended landing ramp caught her attention and she pushed her back off the wall she had been leaning against to welcome the newcomers. Grandmother was smiling at her gently and Anja, following in her wake along with little Amerie, echoed that expression. Only Al'than'erudo seemed preoccupied. "Where is he?" the Chiss asked bluntly, and for once Jacen found the gaze from his glowing eyes disturbing. There was something cold lingering in his gaze.

"Asleep." That was Khameir, who was coming around the corner to join them.

The Chiss met the young man's bleu eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Will you show me to him?"

By now Nuron and Jacen had become aware of the new arrivals and were also coming over to greet them. Nuron in particular seemed very determined for some reason. "You have come to see the boy?" she asked the Chiss, before her gaze flicked over to Padmé, who smiled at her.

"Yes," Al'than'erudo answered, but was already moving toward Khameir, who turned around to lead the way.

As Jaina had expected, craning her neck to see over Nuron's shoulder in the suddenly crowded cabin housing the bunks, Liyuma woke fast upon their arrival. His eyes opened abruptly, their as no in between sleep and waking, no confusion in his gaze, only calm. She heard Grandmother draw a sharp breath but before she could think further on that reaction Al'than'erudo had already moved forward. Jaina noticed that the Chiss did not make an effort to put the child at ease, he was towering easily over the small figure and his gaze was incredibly stern when he reached out to touch the child's forehead. Liyuma did not stir, yet Jaina thought she saw a tiny, tiny smile linger in the corners of his mouth. It made her shiver. The examination lasted only for a few moments and afterwards Al'than'erudo took a step away from the bunk and turned to face the small group with him. "He does not speak?"

"No, not that we have noticed," Khameir replied calmly.

Al'than'erudo nodded to himself and smiled. "Well," he began, "I do not know how to put this, for I myself am not sure whether it is good or bad news." Jaina felt her breath catch and felt the same surprise from her twin brother. Then the Chiss continued, "All I can say for certain is that the body is not grown from a human womb. The genetic makeup is partly human, but most of it is Yuuzhan Vong. The mind, though, that is, as they say, a different kettle of fish." He laughed at that expression. "A miracle he let me touch that at all, but there are no defences there, nothing. Which is incredible, considering – " He stopped himself then, but Jaina understood well enough. The late Roj Kell would never have left his mind unguarded. Was that a good sign then? Then she noticed the very sombre expression on Al'than'erudo's face.

"Considering what?" Nuron demanded to know at last.

The Chiss closed his eyes for a moment and they all saw him shiver. It was a shocking sight. "You realise, don't you, what this means. The boy is no natural being, but his mind – his mind is one we have come to fear, one unbridled by the rules his alter ego subjected himself to. A mind which can be taught, which can be formed, for good or evil, that is in our hands. He remembers the past, though his perspective is a different one, neutral, if you will."

"Why doesn't he speak, then?" Jacen wanted to know.

"He is fully capable of speech, but for now he has chosen to observe, I believe, to learn."

"He is Force-strong," Nuron stated then. "Else he could not have done what he did on Korriban and Ordesha. Am I right?"

"Strong, yes," Al'than'erudo agreed. "Though I have never felt anything like this before. But his power is not what frightens me. What frightens me is to think of who has created this being. Don't you see the cruelty of it all? To bind this spirit into an unnatural vessel, that was exactly what Sidious tried and failed to accomplish. And this mind does not rail against his fate, this mind is content to watch. It is – incredible."

"He has killed Anteres Plawal," Khameir reminded them then. "So he has a purpose. Whether that purpose was indoctrinated into that mind by someone else of born of memories we must ascertain. The Cor'dan will know what to make of this."

"You are not going anywhere near that man!" That was Aunt Nuron, who moved to angrily confront her offspring about that foolish suggestion.

"No, that is true," Al'than'erudo injected calmly, before Khameir could reply. "Mith'raw'noruodo has asked me to have the boy brought to him. Since he follows you, Khameir, I want you to bring him to Csilla."

"I want to go along," Jacen piped up then and Jaina felt her jaw drop. "There must have been a reason why he chose us to witness what we did on Ordesha," he explained determinedly. "I want to know who has sent him to find us."

"Danger, Jacen Solo," Al'than'erudo admonished him, "is never to be taken lightly. And Nuron is right, Khameir, you will not interfere with Naas Deron. Your father will deal with him. You will do as I say and go to Csilla."

"Out of the way?" the youth asked lightly.

The Chiss laughed out loud. "Do not worry, I will need to use all arguments I can to convince the Senate, including yours. I am not sending you away so you cannot interfere. But I want you to learn first. Learn from your elders, for they indeed know life better than you do. Learn from Mith'raw'noruodo, from Ishare Luvo and your grandfather. They can all teach you. And teach that boy too."

Jaina wondered what Al'than'erudo had meant when he had mentioned Khameir's arguments. What had they been talking about? Then Aunt Nuron said, "I will be accompanying you, Al'than'erudo. You need an eye-witness, and someone to watch your back on Coruscant."

He shook his head. "Andarack is already on Coruscant."

"Someone you can trust without reservations," Nuron continued calmly. "Someone unaffected by whatever plans the Cor'dan is pursuing. You know where Andarack's loyalties lie."

"Indeed I do," Al'than'erudo answered softly. "Then we are agreed. Khameir and Liyuma will head for Chiss space, along with Jacen. Jaina? Don't you want to accompany your brother?"

"Yes," she replied with a hurried nod. An adventure on their own, only the three of them, as adults. That was something to look forward to. To continue what they had begun on Ordesha.

"Nuron will be accompanying me to Coruscant and Padmé, I ask you to travel to Bilbringi to ensure that the Confederate Zone is on our side, should all diplomatic efforts fail."

"Will you be isolating the New Republic then?" That was Khameir, incredibly perceptive.

Jaina shivered when the Chiss nodded and said, "If it becomes necessary."

TBC

Teaser:

Luke stood very still as the figure came across the room toward him and the shadows that had clung to it previously were peeled away by the light. The Yuuzhan Vong was a female, very much so, with a tall, slender body and a striking face. She was beautiful, a savage beauty, that fit her surroundings perfectly. And he noticed that she had scarred herself to achieve that appearance. Her cheekbones protruded through the flesh of her face, a stark white that reflected the light. Her hair, jet-black, was long and sleek, and her eyes, set wide apart and framing a long, straight nose, sparkled like pale green gem stones. But most amazing was the fluid grace with which she moved. So familiar.

"Surprised?" she asked in perfect Basic. Luke had almost expected her voice to sound like it did, a deep, warm contralto, with silver bells floating above those deeper tones like butterflies. It was magical, that voice. No subtlety. No restrictions. It went straight to the heart.


End file.
